


Who left you behind

by Ziane



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Barebacking, Edgeplay, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, Love at First Sight, Lovers To Enemies, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Separations, Smut, Unfinished Business
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-19
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 21:28:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 73,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ziane/pseuds/Ziane
Summary: Fate crossed their paths while Baptiste was a Talon mercenary, but he never expected to fall in love with a man doomed by his ambitions, let alone lose him because of them.
Relationships: Jean-Baptiste Augustin/Doomfist: The Successor | Akande Ogundimu
Comments: 20
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The story will cover their relationship from 2069 to 2077 (present days) (/^▽^)/  
> Welcome to rare pair hell.  
> You're trapped with me now.  
> (￣ω￣;)

Talon Headquarters, Rome, 2069

It’s been 7 years since Baptiste completed his service in the Caribbean Coalition and joined Talon mercenary forces. Like many of his comrades, this was the only opportunity available. His dreams of standing out during the aftermath of the war, helping people and living up to the Overwatch heroes he grew to love and respect remain long forgotten. It was just a teenage dream.

A pack of sterilized gauzes almost slips through his fingers. When did he lose sight of what he wanted? Baptiste regrets little choices he’s made in his life, but he got engulfed by a terrorist organization that fights against the core of his beliefs. And yet under this struggle, he’s paralyzed. After so many years, he hasn’t seen or heard of anyone renouncing their position in Talon. People disappear from one day to another, never coming back or doing it as casualties after a mission. He has a clear idea of what happened to them. Talon owns you, and if you’re not an asset, you’re a liability. If he ever decides to leave, he knows what’s at stake.

Counting inventory always relaxed him. A tedious task for most, but he gets to spend some time with himself, daydreaming about the clinic and the next time he’ll be able to visit Roseline. He hopes things are working out for her. He earns more than he needs in Talon, more than what he had earned back in the Caribbean Coalition, but it’s still not enough to sustain a clinic on their own. A fond smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, his hands busy counting needles and syringes.

The clinic serves as an excuse for working for Talon still despite their conflict of ideals. If he uses the money for something good, maybe he can look the other way, disregard how the missions keep getting fishy, the methods careless, and the goals questionable. Profiting from the losses of the war isn’t how he expected to spend his life. Baptiste is a medic, a healer, someone who cares and wants to change the world. But he had nothing, has nothing, and the world seems destined to repeat the same mistakes over and over.

It’s late; the halls of the building emptied of the activity that crowds them during the day. The last group came back an hour ago, and the following shift has already left. No injuries, no casualties, it was a quiet day. Baptiste finished his work hours ago, but he busied himself in the med bay, the rest of the staff gone. His stomach protests, but he ignores it. 

The thought of calling an early night and going back to his bunk tempts him halfway through counting the biotic launcher ammunition, but then he’d have too much time to think without a task at hand. Things have been rattled lately. Since the Venice incident, Talon struggles with security and Overwatch’s attempts to thwart their plans. He never thought he’d be enemies with the very organization he admired as a child. The thought brings a wry smile to his lips. Although according to the press, Overwatch is no better than Talon and has a troubled future ahead.

Baptiste and his team -including a very pissed Captain Cuerva- have been stuck in Rome for a week and counting, which means too much idle time and lack of action. But someone needs to stock the shelves and do this shitty work everyone seems too busy to do so the next time they head out on a mission, they don’t lose precious time. Baptiste was happy to volunteer; anything to keep himself busy and out of the field.

Baptiste sips at his lukewarm coffee mug, moving to the refrigerated vials’ cabinet when a familiar voice reaches his ears. The med bay was peaceful and his work fast and uninterrupted until then. He sighs as he leaves the clipboard on a surface nearby and downs his coffee in one long gulp.

“You done here, mijo?” Sombra asks with a smirk, leaning on the desk careful not to push the mountains of files over. Baptiste turns around, sporting an easy smile, and almost thankful to be saved from his own gloomy thoughts. “I have booze.” She wiggles her eyebrows and a soft chuckle escapes him. She joined Talon recently; not the typical soldier but a valuable asset with an unusual set of skills and an even more unique mind. They connected quickly and became friends. Baptiste has a good hunch about her despite her reputation or lack thereof.

“Nah,” he croaks. “Once I’m done here I want to work on my secret project.” He teases her every single time. No one knows about how he’s been using Talon’s resources and materials to build a highly experimental protection field. If he manages to make it work properly, he cannot let Talon steal the design and spoil its purpose. The device should be able to project a barrier and prevent anything inside from suffering critical damage. Now that he thinks about it, Talon probably wouldn’t find it profitable nor useful in the field. Casualties never meant much for an organization that grows every day and recruits almost anyone as meat soldiers under the promise of a good wage.

“Uh…” Sombra croons. “What is it about?” She rolls her eyes, unimpressed.

“Secret, Sombra.” Baptiste sets the mug aside, arching an eyebrow at her. “If I were to share this with anyone, it wouldn’t be with you,” he retorts.

“You hurt me!” She clutches her chest. “I wouldn’t air your secrets unless I was offered a nice paycheck on the side.” Olivia winks. She would never betray Baptiste, the only guy at Talon that doesn’t seem to have a head full of hay or a stick up their ass.

Baptiste smiles before retrieving his clipboard and pretending to continue working despite Sombra’s offer. “Has Mauga sent you?” he mumbles.

“Geez, you really are no fun today.”

“Just tired.” He shrugs.

Craning his head through the door, a big, brawny guy that would scare the shit out of anyone if not for the grin on his face hisses at them: “Come on, Sombra, unlike this guy, we know how to have fun.” Mauga flips him off with a wink.

“Good to have friends!” Baptiste quips, shaking his head.

“Go ahead, I’ll drag him out by the hair if I need to,” Sombra says without turning to look at Mauga. Baptiste has been in a terrible mood for months now, and she knows all too well what troubles him, but she also knows there’s nothing they can do now except weather the storm. Mauga’s grunt doesn’t go unnoticed by either of them, but he waves his hand in defeat and disappears down the hall.

“Thank you, but I still have work to do around here.” Baptiste graces her with an insouciant shrug.

“It’ll be fun,” she croons. “We’re stuck here, but it doesn’t mean you can’t have a drink with me and the guys.” Olivia nudges him playfully. “Who knows when we’ll be out of here for good and then I won’t be able to see you so often.”

The fake pout on her lips rips a laugh out of him. She means well, but the last thing Baptiste needs right now is to drown his self-loathing thoughts in alcohol. It never ends well. “You can help me out here,” he offers.

“Ew, no.” Olivia crosses her arms over her chest, reluctant to accept the defeat just yet.

“Tonight, I just need some peace and…” Baptiste trails off when a Talon mercenary in full gear barges in through the double doors that connect the emergency bay with the hangar. “What the heck,” Baptiste mutters, witnessing the scene through the window glass of the office. He heads out and into the emergency medical facilities.

The second the mercenary spots him, he inches his way toward him. “You! Are you a medic?” He removes the helmet and a worrisome furrow is the first thing that greets him. Sweaty strands of blond hair stick to his forehead and his breathing hitches impatiently as he waits for an answer.

“Only if you have insurance,” Baptiste jokes, hoping the white lab coat answers for him.

Without taking his eyes off of him, the mercenary beckons his group inside. “Get him in here, now!”

Two operatives struggle to carry a seemingly unconscious man inside. His weight hangs heavily over their shoulders, head hovering in free fall at the front. Miles of ebony skin greet his eyes, prickling all the little hairs at his nape when he recognizes who he is. Akande Ogundimu is in Rome’s headquarters, in his med bay, injured. They drag him to the closest stretcher and with the help of a third and a fourth soldier, they struggle to lift him up in between grunts and laborious wheezing.

Baptiste blinks twice, eyes flickering to the prominent, shiny gauntlet adorning his right arm, and mumbles a curse under his nose. That doesn’t look like his usual weapon. Many would deem presumptuous to jump into battle with just your fists -and an advanced prosthetic- but Akande has already made a name after Adeyemi brought him into Talon a few years back. Baptiste has seen him before but never had the chance to work alongside him or even exchange words. The man terrifies him, he’s the embodiment of war and conflict and the most renowned Talon’s weapon. And now he’s in his hands.

“Have you listened to me?” The mercenary snaps his fingers in front of his face. “Tend to him.”

Sporting a furrow between his eyebrows and a racing heart, Baptiste moves closer to the stretcher, the other men leaving as fast as they came in, surely wanting nothing to do with this business. “What happened to him?”

“He got caught in an explosion.” Baptiste inspects the bruises and lacerations closely, the worst one on the side of his abdomen. He takes a pair of latex gloves from a box and rips open a sterilized gauze, pressing it on the still bleeding wound.

“I wonder who caused the explosion,” he mutters, knowing Talon’s careless attitude toward collateral damage either to his own mercenaries or even civilians. “That’s it?” Baptiste glares at the soldier for the lack of information.

“Mierda, I’m out of here,” Sombra whistles too playfully for the seriousness of the situation. “I don’t want to be here if he dies on you.”

“Weren’t you gone already?” Baptiste grunts as she waves at him and flees the place.

Before he can shift his attention back to Akande, the mercenary fists the lapels of his lab coat. “You can’t report about this,” he hisses in a low whisper. “ _This_ isn’t happening.” Baptiste nods. He has no interest in airing what he does outside his work hours, especially if it’ll only cause trouble for himself.

“Anything else I need to know?”

“You’re the medic, you figure that out.” The man turns to exit the emergency bay, leaving the two alone, but he turns around before the crosses the folding doors and spits a warning at him. “But he better be awake by dawn.”

“No pressure!” Baptiste snorts, suddenly enveloped by the silence of the place except for his own thumping heart and Akande’s heavy breathing. Talon’s most powerful ally, the asset with the most promising future in the organization as he climbs ranks by the day is unconscious under his care and he cannot fuck this up or leaving Talon won’t be his choice anymore.

The gauze under his fingers soaks in thick, red blood in no time, and he picks a few more to put pressure on the wound as he assesses his patient. He points a mini flashlight on his pupils, discarding brain damage or signs of a concussion. “Hey, you okay?” He pats his cheek with the back of his fingers as if the stimulus could wake him up. Nothing. “Why are you out, big guy?” he mumbles.

Baptiste connects an external monitor to track his vitals and once he confirms his heartbeat is stable and his blood pressure normal, he cleans the cuts on his chest and abdomen. A few bruises are starting to take form, the flesh swelled as if the guy had received a beating. Not all the wounds can be explained by the backlash of an explosion, but his job doesn’t require that kind of information.

Gently and methodically, Baptiste squirts a saline solution over the open wounds, cleaning them up with a gauze and applying a quick self-healing disinfectant gel. The large laceration on his side goes from a rib to almost his back, but it’s not deep. Serious enough to keep bleeding until properly treated, but with Talon’s technology and the medical advances of the last century, there’s nothing Baptiste cannot heal in a couple of hours. But Akande is still out and it can’t be because of the blood loss.

Probably the explosion was too much after what he had already gone through. Baptiste leaves the wound soaking in the medical gel and changes the gloves, tossing the blood-stained ones in a bin nearby and picking a new pair. He runs his fingers gently over his scalp, checking for bumps or non-bleeding wounds. His head pounds under his fingertips, the bone underneath the short, thick layer of hair intact. “You’re fine,” he whispers in a sigh of relief.

This was a strange turn to his night of inventory and self-loathing. Akande’s eyebrows knit in discomfort, his lips parting in a gasp. He doesn’t seem so scary when he’s knocked out, but Baptiste sure as hell would stay away from him if he was awake. Every time he has seen him either around the headquarters or on the news, he never smiles. His countenance is fierce and twisted in a grimace as if he was always ready to fight a war. Perhaps he is, or at least tries for all he can tell.

In order to patch him up and ensure the wounds heal without leaving a scar behind, Baptiste needs to stitch the one on the side. He finds a laser device and comes back, stealing a stool nearby with the tip of his foot until he sits beside the stretcher. His head lifts unconsciously, checking they’re still alone. He should lock the place up for the night once he’s done tending to his wounds. Then, his night doing inventory can resume as he monitors him.

After injecting local anesthetics, he leans forward and starts the procedure. “You should have invested in a full armor to cover your soft areas,” he teases, not at all displeased by the sight of lean, hard muscles on display. His eyes rivet over the hint of a v shape down his navel and up again when he clears his throat and focuses on the task. “Soft my ass,” he mutters wryly.

The procedure takes only a few minutes, and he seals the wound with a medigel gauze to accelerate the healing. It should be closed and healed in 8 hours and gone in a couple of days. Baptiste stares again at Akande’s calmed expression. There’s a vulnerability enveloping him that feels foreign and strange in a face that reflects Talon’s ideals with just one glare. But now he’s quiet, peaceful, wounded, and Baptiste soaks it all in, reminding himself Akande is just a mere mortal like the rest of them. Even though he looks like a god.

The gilded gauntlet catches his eye, sparkling under the white lights of the med bay. He skims his fingertips over the plated forearm, feeling the cold surface and tracing an old scratch on the material. That is definitely not the gauntlet he usually wears. It’s missing the characteristic red and white colors of Talon and looks worn and solid. But before dwelling on it and leaving his questions unasked and unanswered, Baptiste motions to where the prosthetic joins with the shoulder. 

“I need to remove this,” he mumbles. “Let’s see if I can figure it out.”

As he fidgets with the weapon, the arm clicks and separates into two parts. He removes the shoulder plate first, revealing artificial muscles that mesh with the body organically. The loss of his arm is no secret. Thanks to his family’s business, Akande always had top tier prosthetics to make up for the missing limb, but this is the first time he sees the quality of the repair and the extent of the damage. Discarding the piece on the side table, Baptiste turns his gaze to the artificial shoulder, feeling the material through his gloves. It seems to have the same consistency as human flesh, it’s even warm under his touch.

When his hands reach the forearm to remove the heavy fist, Akande jerks awake and grasps his upper arm in a forceful grip. The pain shoots through his spine like a jolt of lightning, and for a moment, Baptiste fears his humerus will shatter into a thousand pieces. He should have been more careful or less bold.

“Auch!” he struggles to say, playing off the pain coursing through him. “That’s not very nice.” His voice wavers as he drowns into black chocolate eyes. Confusion washes over them for a moment while Akande recognizes his surroundings.

Their gazes lock, Akande’s eyes slowly focusing on him as he loosens his grip just enough for Baptiste to let out a deep sigh. But Akande holds onto his arm. Despite the fear he should feel, there’s none.

“You’re in Talon headquarters,” Baptiste explains, and Akande reluctantly lets him go. “You entered my med bay unconscious, and I was assessing your wounds.” He massages his arm, helping the blood to flow normally again and pretty sure a bruise will form by tomorrow.

Akande groans, feeling his injured side with the other hand. The last memory plays on his mind along with the adrenaline of the fight. “He’s dead.” He clenches his fists tightly as he growls “I killed him,” he says through gritted teeth.

“Who?” Baptiste frowns, staring into his painful gaze.

It was about time. Adeyemi would have never handed over the title. He did what he had to do to become the agent of chaos. Talon needs a powerful leader, someone to infuse fear in and out of the organization. The current board is full of businessmen and crime lords wanting to stash money away but none of them have what’s necessary to accomplish what he’s about to start: a war.

His master put on a good fight, but in the end, Akande knew he was better, stronger, smarter, and more determined. The fist should have belonged to him for years now. He waited long enough to claim his title and stand as The Successor.

After the pregnant pause and the lack of an answer, Baptiste sighs. “I need to take the gauntlet off to stabilize you.” Baptiste’s sweet accent brings him back to the present, and Akande nods.

“I killed him,” Akande mumbles as if he feared waking up from a dream. It wasn’t a hard decision to make, but fighting someone to death is not as easy as he pictured it in the aftermath. Adeyemi was his mentor, he was his protégé, and he killed him for the sake of the world. His mind tries to justify his actions even though deep in his heart, Akande did it because he wanted to, needed to.

“So you’ve said.” Baptiste removes the fist, revealing the skin-like prosthetic underneath. Akande follows him with his gaze as he sets the weapon aside and comes back. “You sound as if you regretted it.” He has a hunch about what happened even before Akande had opened his eyes, but the confession churned his stomach, confirming his suspicions.

Akande laughs wryly at his remark. A deep, throaty chuckle tinged with amusement and bitterness. Baptiste pities him for half a second before reminding himself who the man is. Until a grimace of pain twists his countenance and the laugh turns into a desperate groan.

“Oh, and now you remember everything hurts,” Baptiste jests, “perfect.” Even though there are no signs of internal injuries, Baptiste palpates his abdomen watching closely his reactions. The slight frown of discomfort and his chest rising and falling faster snitch the extent of his injuries. Luckily for both, nothing fatal. “Cooperate while I work my magic on you.”

“Be quick about it,” Akande says grudgingly.

Now free of the gauntlet, Baptiste inspects his arm, wondering what woke him up so suddenly. He moves both hands to the upper arm, feeling the structure. “Your prosthetic seems okay.” Until he reaches his shoulder and a patch of real muscle. Akande lets out a grunt of pain.

Baptiste massages gently the area, his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. “That new thing of yours is heavy,” he quips, “you’ll have to get used to it.”

“I have to go,” Akande grunts, propping himself up on his elbows when Baptiste’s firm hand pushes him down.

“Lie back.” Akande tries to stand again, but Baptiste’s glare and the stabbing pain on his side change his mind. His head pounds with an unnerving headache and the simple action of raising his head makes him feel dizzy and weakened. “Hey, talk to me,” Baptiste whispers, his eyebrows knitting together.

The man is about to faint again. He seems confused and disoriented, and his eyes close shut before they jerk open again. “Look at me, what’s your name? Do you know where you are? How you got here?”

Akande blinks twice. “Doom-fist,” he mutters in a low growl, as if he were getting used to the name on his lips, to the sound of it. “Doomfist.” He smirks, meeting Baptiste’s eyes before he surrenders again to the dubious comfort of the stretcher.

“That’s not your name, Mr. Ogundimu,” Baptiste retorts, shaking his head.

“It is now.” He squints his eyes at him, and Baptiste can’t decide if he’s annoyed or just plain angry. At least he refrained from calling him by his first name. “I’m fine, I remember everything,” he says in a sigh. “I just… need to…” He shifts uncomfortably.

“Lie back and let me work?” Baptiste fetches the equipment to set an IV despite Akande’s not-so-subtle protests about it.

“No, don’t,” Akande mutters. “I don’t need it.”

“Yes.” Baptiste places the IV on the pit of his elbow and does it so quickly and painlessly Akande has no time to change his mind about it. Not that the guy is at his best when it looks like his consciousness is hanging by a thread. “You’re burning up and you’ve bled quite a lot. Tell me, when was the last time you slept?”

Akande opens his mouth to speak as a deep crease sets in between his eyebrows. “What day is it?” His voice sounds hoarse, and Baptiste leaves him there wondering about the simple question and comes back with a cup of water and a paper straw.

“Here.” His patient downs half the cup and lies back with a sigh. “I’m going to give you something to sleep, some broad-spectrum antibiotics and painkillers. You’ll sleep ten hours, guaranteed.”

“I do not have time for that,” Akande hisses.

“That’s what I always say, but no one ever listens.” Baptiste pats his good shoulder, his head cocking aside. “You’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine.”

“I’m guessing you were out for at least an hour before you got here,” Baptiste says. His hands work hastily as he speaks, injecting the promised dose and taking advantage of Akande’s weariness and fogged mind. “Plus, I’m in charge and I say you need bed rest.” He opens his mouth to complain, glaring at him with the little energy he has left. “You do as I say and you’ll thank me in the morning.” Baptiste winks.

Another chuckle escapes him and reminds him he’s badly bruised and slightly numb all over, but he doubts the bossy doctor allowed him to leave the med bay even if he had tried. “It’s your job, you don’t have a choice,” Akande retorts. But when has anyone stopped Akande from doing anything he wants?

“Charming.” Baptiste arches an eyebrow at him. “Truly.” He checks his vitals again and makes sure the drip is steady. “But you know, I chose to be here,” he says, removing the latex gloves and throwing them in the bin. “It wouldn’t have mattered who came through that door tonight because if I’m here, I’m going to help them.” He offers some more water to Akande who drinks it without taking his eyes off of Baptiste’s.

Men, teammates, and even his superiors fear to look into his gaze for too long, scared of what he had done, frightened of what he might, but the good doctor has not a hint of fear sparkling in his eyes much less tingeing his words. The corner of his mouth pulls upward inadvertently.

“And honestly? This is what keeps me going.” Baptiste graces him with a nonchalant shrug and proceeds to remove his combat boots and the heavy plates on his thighs. Just enough to let him sleep more comfortably in his under armor. He sets them aside along with the gauntlet.

Akande averts his gaze once Baptiste busies himself drawing the curtains to give him some privacy in the unwelcoming emergency room. He struggles to keep his eyes open and mumbles a curse when he realizes the guy is right. He’s exhausted. Akande chased Adeyemi for three days and the fight lasted hours and hours until he lost track of time. He won, but at what cost? The fist and the title are his and no one would dare to challenge him any time soon, but he’s lonelier today than he was yesterday.

On their way out, the aircraft blew an opening on the building that almost costs him his life. But he was trapped like a rat in a maze. Adeyemi’s faithful dogs were after him, probably still are even though as long as he’s affiliated to Talon, he’s untouchable. Akande left Numbani behind once more, but this time he’s a traitor to their people because he won’t be the savior nor the scourge of Numbani; he’ll be the successor and he won’t fight for anyone but himself. Talon is a tool, means to an end, and the future of the world is not in his hands, but he will kindle the spark of conflict, and it’ll spread.

Once he finishes cleaning up, Baptiste throws a thin, white sheet over him and dims the lights on the area so he can get some shuteye. He sports a reassuring smile and is about to turn around when words blurt out of Akande’s mouth. Perhaps he’s not so ready to be on his own just yet, fearful of nightmares crawling up his mind even while awake.

“Hampers my movements when I punch,” he says. “That’s why.”

“Hm?” Baptiste chuckles when he realizes what he means, and something like a blush heats his cheeks in advance.

“A full armor makes me weaker.” Akande grins, eyes hidden behind hooded lids.

“Who am I to judge? I have nothing against guys wanting to fight bare-chested,” Baptiste teases, lifting his hands in defeat. “Kind of primal, if you ask me, but I’m not bothered at all by the sight.” A sheepish grin grows wide on his lips.

“Your name?”

“Baptiste.” He salutes him playfully, an old military habit he has yet to overcome for he is not a soldier anymore, just a mercenary. “Not that you’re going to remember my name,” he murmurs, clearing his throat. “We’re done here, sleep.”

“I’m…” Akande fights with a tongue too big for his mouth “... drowsy.”

“Meds kicking in. Sleep tight, big guy.” Baptiste swivels about when he notes fingertips trying to reach his still sore arm.

“Wait,” he breathes out. “My name’s Akande.”

“Nice to meet you.” As if he didn’t already know his name, but it wouldn’t be the first time someone gets a bit high after the cocktail he just put into him to knock him out for the night. “Sleep tight, Akande.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Akinjide Adeyemi is depicted wearing his gauntlet on his left hand, meaning that Ogundimu had it remodeled for his own personal use ([OW Wikipedia](https://overwatch.gamepedia.com/Akinjide_Adeyemi)). For the sake of the story, I changed that bit ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°)


	2. Chapter 2

Early in the morning, before the next shift comes into the med bay to start the day, Baptiste awakes. It’s almost 5. Last night, he went back to doing inventory while monitoring Akande, but after a couple of hours, the adrenaline of the moment gone, he felt sleepy. He couldn’t leave him there alone, so he meant to brew another coffee pot, but the moment he rested his feet on top of the desk and reclined back on the chair, he fell asleep like a baby.

The small light of the office is blindingly bright, but he should be thankful that at least, he had a few hours of sleep instead of none. Baptiste stretches for as long as the yawn lasts, scratching his braided dreadlocks until he gets the bearings of his current situation. He needs coffee and a shower; he sniffs the shoulder of his lab coat, perhaps not in that order. Baptiste gazes through the glass window. “Are you kidding me?” he mutters in a hoarse morning voice. 

Besides waking up with a sore neck and aching muscles, he finds an empty stretcher and a discarded IV where Akande should be sleeping. Did he miscalculate the dose? Still suffering the consequences of sleeping on a chair at his twenty-nine years old, Baptiste runs a hand over his face and promises himself a hot mug of coffee before he takes care of the mess Akande left behind. 

The gauntlet and his armor are gone, and so is he. “You’re welcome,” he mutters, heading toward his bunk to grab his toiletry bag. There’s a hint of a scathing protest in his words that leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. Although halfway through the common showers, he’s so tired he dismisses his bad mood as sheer grumpiness at having slept shit that night.

The facilities are busy with the early shifts heading toward the mess-hall for breakfast, and the news of the former Doomfist’s death isn’t so new anymore. He goes on auto-pilot until the warm stream of water pours down his back. Baptiste groans, a hand on the tiles, the other holding a soap bar. He could fall asleep right there enjoying the warmth of the water sliding down his body if not for the escalating activity of the showers at peak hour.

As he reluctantly resumes cleaning up, he notices the bruise adorning his arm. It’ll go away in a couple of days, nothing serious, but the strength and the speed with which Akande grabbed him has left a mark on his body and an impression in his mind. He was desperate, shaky, disoriented, and even though it took him less than a second to realize Baptiste wasn’t a threat, he still didn’t let go as if he needed someone to hold on to.

Baptiste feels more like a person after a shower and clean clothes. It’s not like they’re on a strict schedule while they’re on leave, but Captain Cuerva insists on performing daily combat simulations to keep them sharp. It takes time away, and he can always hit the gym right after before returning to the med bay for less epic tasks.

“Hey, buddy,” Mauga says, placing a hand on his shoulder as they head to their designated training area. “Busy night? You didn’t show up.”

“Yeah, I spend the night doing inventory.”

“You okay?” Mauga asks. 

Baptiste arches an eyebrow at him and after a few seconds, they both bark a laugh in unison. “I just need to sleep for twelve hours,” he jokes. Not that he would air that he had to patch the new Doomfist up and dozed off at the office only to realize he could have done it in his bed, it wouldn’t have made a difference. That’s what pissed him off this morning. The thought eases the nerves churning his stomach, but just for a few hours.

Once he learned what had befallen yesterday, first from Akande’s confession and later filling the blanks with the news and the rumors, he understands what Akande had gone through. Not that he approves, it was a choice he had made consciously after all, but still, killing your master, taking over the title and the coveted gauntlet, and coming back wounded and almost defeated must have been quite the ride. Not that anyone except Baptiste and his team knew about it. There was more on the inside than he’d let him see, Baptiste knew because he does the same every day since he joined Talon; to keep a part of his soul just for himself. Or maybe he’s giving the guy too much slack, and he’s just the full of himself prick everyone talks about.

Perhaps a goodbye was too much to ask for. Why does he even care when the guy didn’t have the decency to wake him up before he left? Why should he, in the first place? Baptiste sighs. He’s used to it. Soldiers give for granted his services in and out of battle. Back in the Caribbean Coalition and now in Talon; they’re all the same ungrateful bastards when it comes to the medics on their team.

Not that they need to thank him for doing his job. But when he incapacitates an enemy at the same time he makes sure their team’s stamina and wounds are healed before they’re even an issue, a little appreciation wouldn’t be something so hard to consider. Mauga is the only guy he’s worked with that seems to realize he’s able to stand in the middle of a war zone because Baptiste is at his back.

They usually have a few drinks together after a hard job or an unnerving mission, and he always toasts and praises Baptiste’s skills. Perhaps because he has saved his life more times than he can count. Camaraderie is not a thing in Talon. Teams get relocated often and the only thing a mercenary cares about is the paycheck and how much he can loot during a disturbance. Talon’s policy regarding the issue is simple: if you complete the objectives, nothing else matters.

So far, Baptiste has been lucky. He gets to work alongside Mauga every single time only because they make a great team. And Captain Cuerva takes advantage of it. Baptiste likes knowing who he goes into battle with. He trusts Mauga, the guy has his back, and he cannot say that about most thugs he has met in Talon.

Sombra has been a dream to work with too. Missions just get significantly easier and quieter when she’s around. Baptiste rarely sees her, but she’s there, making sure security cameras and lights are off before they arrive. When things get complicated, she saves the day cracking up their comms or handing them over the enemy’s intel in a silver lining. She’s as useful as Baptiste and Mauga, and the biggest irony is that they’re all playing for the wrong team.

Baptiste knows Mauga will never leave Talon even if he asked. He’s comfortable with his substantial paychecks and enjoys the thrill of the action. On the other hand, Baptiste cannot help questioning every Talon’s move and motive. Every time civilians are involved and there are casualties because of the chaos they originated, he dies a little inside. How far will he get if he escapes? They’ll chase him home, he’ll live like an outcast and will endanger Roseline and the clinic. What would become of the place without his financial support?

After lunch, Baptiste is still a bit sore at Akande for disappearing like that, but he hasn’t figured out yet why it stings so much. It doesn’t matter because they’ll never meet again, not when he was in such a state of vulnerability. But if they do, he doubts Akande will remember his name, much less his face. Akande Ogundimu is not some random Talon agent you can make your acquaintances with. He’s the real deal, the perfect asset in tune with the organization. Not for the wages or the profit, but because of something obscure that escapes him; he believes in Talon and seems to crave a new war.

It’s hard to figure out the big picture when Talon strikes anywhere in the globe, extending its claws whenever it can. Akande strives for the top, has achieved a position of privilege in less than a decade, surpassing big bugs and richer men. Considering where he comes from, that’s quite the achievement. A rich kid from a rich family, standing out in sports until the war changed him forever. He was already a figure to fear when Baptiste joined Talon, and meeting him yesterday brought an ocean of questions that don’t matter -that shouldn’t matter- for he will never know the answer. As if a simple special op could figure out what ambitions lurk into that man’s intricate mind.

Not even an hour-long run and an intense weight lifting session with music blasting directly into his ears have been able to take Akande out of his mind. Frustrated, Baptiste takes the second shower of the day. 

Perhaps it was seeing such a powerful man unconscious, the way he jerked awake and grabbed onto him, the sweetness he glimpsed when he was stuffed with painkillers and about to fall asleep. No, Baptiste grunts inwardly, entering the med bay as if he were in a hurry. He greets his colleagues, who turn their heads at him and his impromptu arrival. He busies himself around the med bay; hard work and long shifts take his mind off things. Not so much today though, with the aching reminder of Akande whenever something brushes his bruised arm or the depth of his dark chocolate glare ingrained in his memory.

Akande leaves in an hour, but there’s somewhere he needs to be before he heads to Venice again for a council meeting. With Antonio Bartalotti dead and the situation contained, it was about time they discussed the future of Talon. And he’ll be there not as Akande or an agent with lofty aspirations but as Doomfist. Vialli intends to take over assuming he has the support of the board, but Akande has other plans in mind and either they join him in this endeavor or they’ll follow the same fate his master did.

Talon is a weapon just as his fists, and they can do more for the world than amass a sweet profit to fill the pockets of rich men. Money is an excuse, a means to an end, the world needs to solve the war they couldn’t over twenty years ago. The current situation isn’t sustainable, even Overwatch’s downfall is proof that the system doesn’t work anymore.

The sight of the entrance of the med bay takes his gloomy mood away in an instant. Akande had no heart to wake the good doctor up this morning. He opened his eyes and felt immediately better than a few hours ago. Removing the IV from his arm, he stood and picked up his stuff to rest in the comfort of his lodgings better than in a sterile emergency room. On his way out, he peeked inside the office and saw Baptiste sleeping on a chair and his strides came to a halt. His arms hugged his body as if he were slightly cold, his head leaning on his own shoulder in a weird -and surely painful- angle, and his feet crossed on top of the desk. Akande smiled, not sure why, boiling the need to say something, thank him at least and ask for his discretion on the situation.

His team was already warned not to disclose the mission to anyone, and he pays them enough to trust their word. No one needs to know he was injured or how long it took him to locate and eliminate Adeyemi. But he left the place fearful of Baptiste relegating him to the stretcher until well in the morning, and that’s something he couldn’t afford.

Akande covered the situation, and the official version is already all over the news. Doomfist was dead, and the new one had risen. He made sure the story flooded the media as soon as he was done. A quick call from the aircraft sufficed. Even though it meant they would stop bashing Overwatch for a while to speak about him. A lesser evil. This was a big step ahead of his plan to finish the war that had started and ended before the world had a chance to change.

There are a few people working in the med bay, but no one notices him at first. He steps in with his usual decisiveness and spots Baptiste coming out of the office that served him as a bedroom that same night. He has a datapad in his hand and sports the same nonchalant air. If any agent had behaved as Baptiste did in his presence, he would have cut them off at once. But there was something about the way he tended to him, the patience and care he put into healing him when he was at his lowest. It fascinates him still. Akande has never found someone so efficient yet caring, as if he enjoyed his job for all the wrong reasons.

“Hey, guys,” Baptiste says, eyes fixed on the device while a frown creases in between his eyebrows. “Anyone knows when the next cargo will arrive? We’re short on nano shots.” When nobody answers him because everybody is gaping at Akande’s imposing presence, Baptiste lifts his gaze and finally realizes why no one answered him. “Oh.” A withheld smile menaces to stretch on his lips. Akande seems perfectly healthy today, a black shirt hugging his broad frame so tightly he can make out the ridges of his muscles. Baptiste clears his throat, embarrassed by his own unexpected track of thoughts. Where’s the rage he’s been boiling all day about ungrateful soldiers never appreciating his work?

Akande inches his way toward him, ignoring the looks of his colleagues who are surely questioning why is he here in Rome when he’s all over the news. “A word?” he says, stepping into the office. Baptiste blinks twice before realizing everyone is staring at them.

“Nevermind,” he mutters with a fake smile, closing the door behind them. Akande leans on the desk with a smirk plastered on his face. “What ails you, Mr. Ogundimu?” Baptiste asks, tossing the pad on the first flat surface he finds.

“I need the report you filled out yesterday.”

So that was it, Akande wants to make sure he keeps it low. It washes over him like a bucket of iced water. “What report?” He shrugs with a wink. “As far as I’m concerned, no one came in last night in need of my services.” The mercenary’s warning about not letting anyone know what had happened was enough, and something tells him Akande already knows that and yet he’s here.

“Good.” Akande smiles, pleased, but now that his excuse to see him is out of the way, his brain struggles to find another reason to linger there. “The last thing I need is to look weak now.” He was never a smooth talker.

The opposite of Baptiste. “You look good enough to me, big guy,” Baptiste says, his lips stretching in a half-smile before he realizes what he’s said. What has gotten into him? He averts his heated gaze and glances over his shoulder and through the glass window. A few of his teammates shoot weird-looking glances at him, but they know better than to question Akande’s presence or inquire any further. If they don’t know about it, it means they don’t need to.

“I know I do.” Akande stands while a low chuckle rumbles in his chest, but under the prospect of him leaving when he just made a fool of himself, Baptiste speaks. 

“Should I change your bandage?”

“I took it off this morning in the shower,” Akande says with a grin. He ripped the thing off and scrambled on his bed for a couple of hours before facing the consequences of his actions and the mission he hadn’t even informed Talon about. He couldn’t risk Adeyemi finding out, making his job ten times harder.

“I figured,” Baptiste scoffs, “but if you apply another, it won’t leave a scar.”

“I don’t mind scars,” Akande says in a guttural voice. He meets his gentle, brown eyes before deciding he still has time to see if the doctor is as good as he remembers or if his memories were tainted by the drugs. He surely is as handsome as he thought when he opened his eyes and the softness of his features struck him mercilessly. Plump, kissable lips quirked in a smile when the slight grimace of pain receded and he realized he squeezed his arm too harshly; dreadlocks braided following the shape of his head and making him wonder how they end at the base of his nape. It was the sight of him that took away all the contained rage, his inner turmoil, and the pain of a body battered after a long fight. Because of his smile. 

Under Baptiste’s surprised gaze, he lifts the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, discarding it on top of the desk. “But if it pleases you, one less won’t matter.”

Baptiste has the breath knocked out of him, but if he has learned something from the many guys trying to get into his pants for the past ten years is that Akande is showing off. And he doesn’t mind in the least. A bunch of hard, swollen muscles strokes his senses and makes him dizzy. Not to speak of the thumping of his heart. The man is gorgeous all over, cheeky and blatant, and yet unreachable, Baptiste reminds himself. He has to be crazy about flirting with the man of the hour. Again.

The bruises are almost faded. He heals fast. His strong chest has a mixture of old and new scars he would like to inspect closely. Some look like they are over twenty years old. Akande is older, but somehow they shared the times of war, and that ordeal always leaves a scar. He lost everything and was raised in an orphanage, and as far as he knows, Akande lost his arm if not more.

His face heats under Akande’s smug gaze when he realizes he has been staring at him without uttering a word. His eyes have taken notice of his body, from the tempting hem of his fatigues to the miles of beautiful, bare skin above. Baptiste clears his throat, regretting having left the datapad because it would come in handy at this precise moment. He pretends not to give a damn about the hot-searing sight that squeezes his groin and stiffens his cock. He’s at his workplace for God’s sake, and Akande is not just his superior but most likely the head of Talon by the end of the year.

“We should move to the…”

“Here is fine.” Akande leans back on the desk, hands clutching the edge of the table.

Baptiste swallows thickly. This man is trouble, the kind of trouble he never knew how to run away from. “I’ll go get the supplies,” he says, cracking a charming smile as if the sight of him on the desk bare-chested didn’t bring a million ideas to his dick.

He is definitely not into big guys like Akande. Guys with muscles that could wreck you if they wanted, hold you tighter than you could ask for, or press you against any surface flat or steep. He’s not short with his six feet tall, but Akande’s still bigger. His thoughts run a mile an hour as he throws gauzes and a few gels patches into a metal tray. “Get it together, Baptiste,” he chastises himself in a barely inaudible murmur. He was so pissed at him, and then the guy comes into his office, takes off his shirt and suddenly he’s a thirsty teenager.

Akande is checking his phone, but he lifts his head as soon as Baptiste comes in. He leaves the tray on the desk and closes the blinds, for privacy purposes. Although he’s pretty sure everyone there has noticed the half-naked man leaning on the desk. “Okay…” Baptiste snaps a pair of gloves on and smiles back at Akande when he sees the predatory grin on his face. The smug bastard knows all too well his assets and apparently, his weaknesses too.

What Akande doesn’t know is that he’s not his type at all, and yet his smile makes him weak on the knees for some stupid reason. Baptiste likes sweet, flirty guys that are weak for his sense of humor and earthy eyes. He loves to charm them with a thick drawl until they tremble for a kiss, or so he did when he was in the scene. Baptiste never thought he would be into guys like Akande, further intimidating the closer you get, taking charge and bossing you around. The inappropriate thought tightens his throat. Akande would manhandle him to his heart’s content, and Baptiste would let him. This has been a confusing surprise.

In what universe is he into an angry, blunt man with an eight pack and muscles -currently displayed in all their glory- that he could never attain not even if he dedicated his life to the task. A man ten inches taller, powerful in every sense of the word and who would probably have a taste one night and forget about him the next. That would suit him well enough. Not just a man. Akande. Doomfist. The title snaps him out of his reverie.

“Everything okay?” Akande arches an eyebrow at him.

“I’ll clean this up first.” Baptiste swipes a disinfectant-soaked gauze on the area. The wound hasn’t closed yet but looks great considering how it looked yesterday. He applies the gel patch and seals it on his skin with the tip of his thumb. “Leave it on at least 24 hours, will you?” He flicks twinkling eyes at Akande.

“Doctor’s orders?”

“I’m not a doctor.” Baptiste palpates the area, checking the surrounding bruises in case he missed something. “I’m an elite combat medic.”

“You’re good at what you do.”

“I know,” Baptiste winks at him, more relaxed now that he has a task to focus on, even though it means closely inspecting the object of his sudden obsession. What harm can it do to get his fill now and then forget about it? Akande is hot, and he’s made peace with the thought. Baptiste is also attracted to him, but that’s taking a bit longer to sink in. His thumb traces the ridge of a bruise and trails down the dip of a tempting, perfectly shaped abdominal muscle. Correction: he’s stupidly attracted to him, and it enrages him. Nothing’s remotely happening between them. It just cannot. Akande winces when he puts too much pressure on a bruised area.

“Pain?”

“I’ve had worse.” Baptiste takes off the gloves and discards them on the tray. “Done already?” There’s a slight disappointment in his voice, and it brings a sultry smile to his lips. Perhaps Akande didn’t come here just to ensure he keeps quiet about last night, much less to have him change a bandage he had already deemed useless.

“How’s your shoulder?” Baptiste isn’t ready to let him off the hook so easily. Flirting is harmless, is it?

“It hurts when I sleep on that side,” Akande says rolling his shoulder slowly as he bites back a grimace of discomfort.

“Oh, so you’ve slept today,” Baptiste teases.

“My bed was far more comfortable than that thing over there,” Akande quips.

“Some were luckier than others,” he smiles, fetching a stool and beckoning Akande to sit there so he can adjust the height and inspect his shoulder. The weight of his new gauntlet had its toll on unaccustomed muscles. Baptiste stands behind him, eyes roaming Akande’s broad frame and sinewy back. “Let me see.” Warm hands descend over his body, feeling artificial muscles and real flesh with expertise. 

The obvious discomfort under the pressure of Baptiste’s exploring fingers is nothing compared to the silky touch of his hands. It is like an electrifying wave travels down his arm and sends a shiver down his spine. What is it about him that never leaves him indifferent? Unable to help himself, a soft gasp leaves Akande’s lips while he relaxes more than he should, fallen victim of the gentle exploration. But Baptiste’s hands are a dream on his skin, and they seem to unknot his muscles, the tension, and the past month’s stress. A miracle worker, but is it his hands or his presence which brings a spark to his life?

Baptiste realizes Akande’s hard muscles underneath his slightly clammy hands isn’t helping his cause. His skin is searing hot, and he avoids wondering what is the scent mixed with the musky notes at the end of a working day. He massages his right shoulder, fondling away the tension built-up in the muscle and translating to the rest of his arm. Akande tilts his head to the opposite side and exposes a thick and also muscled neck. Is there any place in his body that isn’t chiseled to perfection? Baptiste can’t help himself, pinching the neck muscle and following it down to the shoulder. “This tension is not just from the gauntlet,” Baptiste informs.

He manipulates his arm, goes over the bicep and forearm until he reaches the wrist and confirms the discomfort is a consequence of the extra weight of the fist. He does what he can to alleviate the pressure on his elbow and to relax the tight, hard-worked muscles. His body is still sore by the fight, and Baptiste can only imagine how desperate or determined he must have been to kill his own master. He works slowly until he has gone through every single inch of his arm and shoulder at least twice.

Another groan of pleasure comes out of Akande, and a smile stretches on Baptiste’s lips. He’s lucky the man can’t see it, but it doesn’t mean he cannot store those lustful noises for another time. Baptiste massages his shoulder again, eliciting another sexy moan from Akande. “I know, I know. I’m so good,” he jokes, torn between muzzling the guy or drawing more of those sweet, suggestive sounds out of him.

His laugh reverberates in his chest and Baptiste feels it through his hands. His skin is thick, and not at all delicate, but so beautiful at the same time. Baptiste likes the difference between their dark skins and notes again the subtle patches of black where the artificial flesh meshes the pectoral muscles with the prosthetic. Did they salvage some parts of his arm to build this? The rest of the arm is a flesh-like color perfectly matched to the rest of his body, but not the upper part or shoulder. Under his touch, they both feel the same even though they’re clearly not.

“I’ve never seen a prosthetic quite like this one. It seems a lot more complex than I initially thought, if I may say so,” he says, risking being -even more- inappropriate. One wrong move and this could turn against him. Akande is not famous for his patience and politeness.

“It’s a part of me, connected to the nervous tissue with nanotechnology. They rebuilt and improved the whole thing,” Akande says, seemingly tamed by Baptiste’s hands gently massaging his shoulder and upper arm.

“But you feel pain,” Baptiste adds. “You could have all the advantages without the pain, preserving your sense of touch but relieving you of the struggle to wear the fist, not to speak of the backlash of using it.”

“I wanted my arm back,” Akande says, his fingers spreading and snatching together in a clenched fist. “I feel everything.”

“I can see that,” Baptiste chuckles, taking off the seriousness of his words at the same time he puts pressure on a tight spot right beneath the joint. Akande grunts softly. “As I was saying, an exceptional work.”

Akande’s lips curl upward in a smile. “Sometimes you need to feel the pain of a punch so you know how much you hurt your enemies,” he brags.

“Remember me to never get in a fight with you,” Baptiste jokes. They both chuckle and his stomach flips again when the deep ring of his voice reaches him. What is wrong with the teenager that has taken over him since yesterday? Baptiste forces himself away from him. “You can get dressed now.”

Akande clears his throat as he stands, wearing his shirt again and checking his phone. Fifteen minutes and this brief recess will be over in favor of the power struggle that rules his life.

“You should be fine,” Baptiste says with a polite smile. “Take it easy for a few days or you’ll bust your shoulder for real.”

“Can I lift?”

“What part of _taking it easy_ didn’t you get?” Baptiste shakes his head, reaching for a bottle of painkillers. “Here, take one before you go to sleep, it’ll help.”

“And if I don’t?” 

Akande’s words don’t match his actions when he accepts the pills. Their fingers brush and as though he hadn’t been touching him for the past half an hour, his stomach curls nice and warm at the subtle stroke of that big hand.

“None of my business if you like a little pain,” Baptiste shrugs, flashing a smile at him as though he wasn’t shaking on the inside. What is it about this man that has him rattled? “I’m not going to be there to supervise you.”

A slow, sexy smile appears on Akande’s lips, and he takes a step toward him. If Baptiste was scared of overstepping any kind of boundary, now he knows his flirting has gone exactly where he intended. Talon has no fraternization rule, and everyone knows.

“I guess that would be above and beyond your duties,” Akande says, his voice low and deep.

“I guess it would,” Baptiste quips, cocking his head to the side. What in the hell is he doing? He’s usually a lot more careful when it is about flirting with guys he works with although he cannot say he works with Akande. In fact, since he joined Talon, his social circle reduced to his team and his shore-leaves scarce, it’s been months since his last hook up. He cannot remember his name, but he made him feel as if he were a regular guy. And now that he recalls the encounter, it was more than a year ago.

Akande’s smile grows predatory in the best of ways, clenching his stomach and reminding him he’s more than a medic, a soldier, a mercenary, but also a man. But his phone chimes, Baptiste clears his throat, and Akande growls angrily at the interruption. It’s cute the way he grunts and groans, and Baptiste hopes to hear it again in less awkward circumstances.

“I have to go,” Akande says, taking the hand Baptiste offers him as a goodbye. A big, warm hand that engulfs his and shakes more gently than he had hoped.

When Akande is at the doorstep, he turns to look at him one last time. “Baptiste,” he calls with a half-smile just for him. “Thank you.”

Brief, but he means it. “It didn’t hurt, did it?” Baptiste jests, arching an eyebrow at him.

Akande’s eye roll makes him grin even wider, but he’s gone before he can even realize he’s been five minutes standing alone in the office. The stupid grin lingered with him for longer than he will ever admit. No matter how many times he chastised himself for flirting with Akande or encouraging his advances. Baptiste is in need of any human contact if it implies another man in his bed. He could have chosen any of the random Talon mercenaries trying to get into his pants. It would have worked just fine as long as they were discreet and kept it casual, but complicating his life isn’t his style, is it?

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Baptiste?” he mutters.

He hoped to see Akande again soon, but it would take a month for him to come back to Rome’s headquarters, and it happens right when Baptiste has to leave for a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See y'all next week! Juicy chapter *incoming* -> Read in Doomfist's voice xD (〃￣ω￣〃)ゞ


	3. Chapter 3

It’s been four long weeks. Baptiste has almost forgotten how the mere sight of his naked torso made his stomach perform a double flip. He won’t lie to himself saying he hasn’t thought of Akande, but he’s over it; whatever it was. He has jerked off thinking about him so many times he’s exhausted every fantasy in which Akande fucks him face down in the mattress, pins him to a wall, sucks him off or manhandles him while Baptiste is the sole object of his desire.

Needless to say, he still wakes up drenched in sweat because of dreams in which the full extent of his surely heavy body bests him in the best of ways. But again, he’s over it. Maybe getting a little hard just thinking about it as he double checks his equipment for the mission. “Over it my ass,” Baptiste mutters. Perhaps he’s not over the rush of lust whenever he thinks about his body, the vocal accent of his voice, the depth of his laugh, or how Akande makes his skin tingle and his heart beat faster. When did he let his need to fuck someone develop into this teenage crush? Baptiste grunts, packing enough ammunition for three missions.

“What is it, buddy?” Mauga asks, sliding his giant guns into their back holsters.

“Nothing,” he lies, “just wanting to get out of this place for a while.”

“You and me both.” Mauga pats him sympathetically on the shoulder. “Glad you’re coming.”

“Someone has to keep you alive.” Baptiste winks.

After being stuck in Rome for over a month, Captain Cuerva summoned Mauga, Baptiste and two other guys that work with them occasionally. Finally, they were assigned a mission even though it’s just a quick trip to Monaco. Whatever it is, an extraction, delivery, a pick-up, Baptiste is up for some action to take his mind off the daily routine of being horny and lovesick in a vicious circle. He just needed to get laid, and not necessarily with Akande.

These missions where the team is small never get bloody, and Captain Cuerva isn’t there to ruin the mood either which is a plus. “Have you got the details about the mission yet?” Baptiste asks, tapping his finger on the datapad expecting an update. It’s not unusual to sit on the aircraft and receive the orders when they’re already on their way there. Talon prides itself on not telling you more than you need, just in case.

Mauga shrugs. “Why? What’s on your mind?”

“That half our team stays grounded, and,” Baptiste lowers his voice, “these two guys worked with us on other stealth missions.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Mauga scoffs.

“Mo-na-co,” Baptiste whispers. There’s only one council member in Monaco who either is the one that arranged the team to perform another mission there, or it’s the target. That’s how it works in Talon.

“I don’t care as long as I get to shoot things!” Mauga’s jarring laugh fills the aircraft, and everyone turns to glance at him. They’ve been waiting for twenty minutes already. Even Baptiste chuckles along with his old friend, his mind free of worries as he sinks back into old habits. His focus fixed on the mission, not questioning anything surrounding it. It works, and although the nerves tumbling his stomach persist, he knows nothing big will come down in Monaco.

The optimistic atmosphere dies down soon. They are waiting for the rest of the team, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth when Sombra gets on the aircraft and slides on a seat beside him.

“Hey,” she says with a mischievous grin that prickles all the little hairs at his nape.

“Looks who’s coming with us!” Mauga greets her and slumps back on his seat.

“Do you know the details?” Baptiste stupidly asks, nudging her with his shoulder. “Of course you know,” he mutters as her grin widens.

“Eyes on the hatch or you’ll miss it, mijo,” she teases, clasping his chin between her fingers and turning his head to the direction where she came in.

Akande’s broad frame occupies the space as he gets on the aircraft. The air electrifies and everyone falls silent as if they had forgotten how to breathe. Baptiste included. There come back the butterflies, the double-flip, the warmth invading every inch of his skin. The bitter longing of the past weeks leaves him naked and vulnerable as a wide smile betrays how much he wanted to see him again. As soon as his eyes lay on him, Baptiste waves Sombra’s hand away. He’s back and Baptiste is nowhere over his crush. Akande comes in tall and proud with his usual blunt expression and cold eyes and his stomach curls deliciously wrong. There’s a withheld smile on his lips that Baptiste knows he won’t let free; not if he can help it.

It takes Akande less than a second to spot him between a brawny guy he identifies as Mauga and Sombra. He’s smiling, and he forces himself to hold back his own despite all he wants to do is to flirt with him after four weeks wondering how the touch of his hands would feel in more interesting places than his shoulder. He spent the first two weeks thinking about him and the other two trying to get back to Rome’s Headquarters as soon as possible even though he wasn’t sure Baptiste would still be there.

Akande has read his dossier closely, knows about the Caribbean Coalition, Port-de-Paix, the clinic, Mauga, his recent friendship with Sombra. But he wants to know everything that the file didn’t say; the stuff he can only find out spending time with him, talking to him, yielding to his own desires before it’s too late or things cool off between them. His optimistic nature and the tinge of sarcasm in his words it’s something that’ll never appear in a report, but it’s what makes him stand out in a crowd. Not to mention the man is gorgeous from head to toe. Akande realizes he’s giving him hard eyes and averts his gaze. Two men follow him closely behind, grabbing his attention for a split second. 

“Close your mouth,” Sombra croons discreetly, and Baptiste glares at her, clasping his jaw shut and losing his smile.

Akande makes room for himself on the seats in front of them, and as soon as he dismisses the other agents, their eyes meet. Their smiles stretch on their lips at the same time. The aircraft takes off, and the rumbling of the engine and the gentle swaying of the ship soothes the atmosphere. The agents start murmuring, Mauga checks his guns again, and Sombra distracts herself with several electronic devices at once.

“Looks like I’ll be patching you up,” Baptiste says.

“As if I needed the help,” Akande retorts.

Baptiste flicks his eyes to his left arm, quirking at eyebrow at him. “Do you want a bandage for that?” There’s a recent wound there, wrapped in white gauze, blood seeping through. If you asked him, a sloppy job.

“I had to improvise,” Akande says, his smile widening. “Maybe you can take a look at it later.”

“Sure, big guy.” Sombra snorts and Baptiste nudges her, but the details of the mission, the destination, and the objectives pop up on their datapads, interrupting every conversation taking place. While everyone else digs their noses in the intel, Baptiste stares into a pair of dark, intent eyes that seem to betray Akande is also very glad to see him again. Baptiste smiles and clears his throat, eyes back on his datapad, but he can feel Akande’s gaze on him. Why is he back? And where are they going?

By the time they came back to the headquarters, it was well into the night. It turns out they were paying a visit to Maximilien, according to Akande, to finally have that private conversation the omnic had been avoiding since the last council meeting. Baptiste relaxed when he saw their task involved Talon and all they had to do was to sneak in their mansion in Monaco and provide security for as long as Akande required.

They just had a little setback to overcome: they weren’t invited, and the mansion was as well guarded as a casino. Security was heavy, but omnics weren’t an issue with Sombra around. Their priority was to find Maximilien and then follow Akande’s orders. Baptiste slid into his combat mode, healing Mauga and incapacitating units here and there as they opened their way up -always up- to where Sombra pointed Maximilien entrenched in a last attempt to avoid Doomfist.

But they had sealed the place in anticipation. They tore their way through an insane amount of omnics and he was grateful for having packed more ammunition than usual. Baptiste avoided wondering why was Akande attacking a council member in the open even though he insisted through the comms Sombra opened with Maximilien’s office that he only needed to have a talk.

“They are delaying the inevitable,” Akande grunted before overthrowing the reinforced door of their office with an impressive blow. “I won’t be ignored.”

The omnic wasn’t pleased with the invasion, but cornered, they had no choice. They didn’t discuss terms, and Akande turned into his polite self when he had Maximilien face to face. Hard not to be polite while wielding the feared fist. Their life was never in danger, but you could cut the air with a knife as they spoke. Whatever Akande wanted, Maximilien was aware of it, and their reasons to deny him had no effect when one wrong word could equate to a death sentence. Akande wasn’t fooling around, and since he took over the title of Doomfist, even Talon feared him.

As a well-versed negotiator, Maximilien realized being in good terms with Doomfist seemed key to their survival in the recent future. Akande was asserting his authority over the board, and although his methods were questionable, they offered results. Why would he need Maximilien’s help or support, they were never informed and Baptiste didn’t even want to know. He suspected he needed his vote or generous funding for some other far-fetched mission.

While Baptiste stores his weapon on the locker of the armory, he makes sure everything is in order for the next mission. As though they were leaving Rome any time soon. At least there were no casualties -not human anyhow- and they didn’t have to assassinate a council member. A chill runs through his spine at the thought, at how Talon and the rest of the board would have taken that offense. It could have been his way out of this life, if he made it alive of the situation plus Talon’s retaliation.

“Good job, not a scratch, buddy,” Mauga says, shoving his giant weapons on his spot next to Baptiste’s and groaning as he removes his armor piece by piece.

“I usually get most of my team back alive, but who’s counting?” Baptiste jests even though his mind is diving deep into Talon’s intrigues and wondering how will the backlash of Akande’s actions affect them all in the long run. He sits on the bench by the lockers.

“I am,” Sombra quips, closing her locker shut. “Where’s the _big guy_?” she teases.

Baptiste freezes halfway removing his exo boots. When they got out of the aircraft, Akande disappeared without uttering a word. He glanced back at him and nodded, and Baptiste guesses that’s all he’ll get from him. Not that he was expecting special treatment, his crush is his own. He smiles, realizing this is the wake-up call his brain needed to forget about Akande and the fantasies he has fabricated out of the man he met a month ago.

“None of my business,” Baptiste says as he resumes the task.

Sombra snickers, leaning back on the lockers as she arches an eyebrow at his friend. “You sure?” She inspects her nails closely as she continues. “Because if you’re interested…”

“Couldn’t care less,” Baptiste scoffs, a half-smile flashing at her in defiance.

“Oh, you want into his pants!” Mauga chuckles.

“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Mauga leans on the other side of the lockers, glancing down at Baptiste. “Yeah, you do. I haven’t seen you interested in a guy since the last time we were at Lefort’s and that was an eternity ago.”

“He has the hots for the big guy,” Sombra confirms.

Bracketed by his two friends, Baptiste wonders when has his sex life become public knowledge. Not that he was ever good at hiding things from Mauga, and he hadn’t been in such a good mood for a mission in years. It wasn’t too hard to connect the dots since he was walking on clouds when Akande arrived after drowning in a poodle of self-loathing for the past weeks. 

And he may have fucked up telling Sombra. She knows what’s going on, not because it is hard to keep anything from the hacker, but because he made the mistake of inquiring about Akande. They were having a drink, and after his fifth beer, Baptiste found the courage to tell her about that night at the med bay. It all went downhill from there, and whatever secrets he spilled about his aching, teenage heart, it was useless to deny them the morning after. She hadn’t brought the subject up until now.

“No. I don’t.”

“Venga ya! You were giving him puppy eyes, please pin me to the nearest wall kind of look.”

Mauga barks one of his genuine, loud laughs. Baptiste throws her a magazine right to the face, but she picks it up midair. “I need that as much as I need another hole in the head.”

“Have fun, live a little,” Mauga shrugs.

“With Doomfist.” Baptiste uses the title when he wants to bring himself back to reality, remembering Akande is not just some guy he finds attractive but a dangerous terrorist that doesn’t think twice about the things he destroys on his way to lead Talon.

“Might be handy, that connection.” Sombra crouches in front of him, her slender hands hugging his knee. “Tell you something, because I like you,” she purses her lips before a sly smile stretches them. “I’d say he’s as interested in you as you in him… I know for certain he requested you specifically for this mission.”

“Why would that be?” Baptiste frowns.

“Either he thinks you are the best combat medic in Talon and didn’t want to risk a mission like this one or…” she trails off mischievously, the sentence taking form in Baptiste’s mind. “... he wanted to see you and needed an excuse,” she rolls her eyes, “duh!”

“Both plausible options, if you ask me.” Mauga winks at him.

“Stop putting ideas in my head, both of you.” Baptiste stands, pointing a finger at either of his friends. “I’m going to finish here, take a long shower, and go to bed.”

“I bet the big guy is doing that right now.” She pretends to check an invisible watch at her wrist, cracking a laugh when Baptiste grunts in frustration. “Wet and naked, and waiting for you to show up.”

“Sombra,” Baptiste threats. She shoots a smile and a wink at him, knowing her cue to leave when she’s already unleashed chaos in his friend’s mind. “See you tomorrow!” Baptiste croons, unable to part angry with her. A soft chuckle is her answer.

A big palm pats his shoulder. “She’s right, though,” Mauga says. “You better scratch that itch before it gets worse.”

“There’s nothing to…” Baptiste sighs, frustrated at his own friends for knowing him so well. His crush has already gotten out of control when he cannot get ahold of his emotions. It was just one mission, one night, a few stupid hours with him and he’s again lovesick because Akande didn’t say goodbye to him. He needs to get laid. Tomorrow. He’ll go to the city, find a guy cute as a button, and fuck him into oblivion.

“Buddy,” Mauga calls with a frown. “Doomfist is not the guy you wanna get in bed with, in any way.” His advice is smart, but in these matters, Baptiste has always been pretty dumb, letting his feelings take the better of him whether it was during the war or regarding unreachable guys that would never love him.

“Thanks, man,” he croaks. “See you later, okay?” The conversation is over, and Mauga never pushes him, always allowing Baptiste to hide a part of himself and not minding in the least. They’re all entitled to their secrets, after all.

“You better not wake me up, because I’m heading to bed and I plan to sleep until well into the morning,” Mauga says as he leaves the armory, yawning. They share a two-bed bunk, and they’re lucky they do. When they first joined Talon it was worse than the military, big rooms with twenty beds and sleepless nights.

Baptiste stays tidying up the equipment. He takes out his biotic launcher for a quick clean-up and grumbles as he tries to convince himself he needs to forget about Akande. Before he realizes the hour, everyone else is gone, and he’s alone. These are his favorite moments; when the headquarters are dead, everyone’s asleep, and he can pretend he’s not just another mercenary paid to kill innocents for a sweet profit. He’s so tired he has no energy to think about Akande and what not. He’ll forget about him, he’s smart, he has a plan, and he’s going to fuck him out of his system even if it is with someone else. Anyone not from Talon, he promises to himself.

He undresses, keeping on the grey tank top he wears under his armor and the tight, black under armor trousers. He grabs the shower supplies from his locker and heads toward the communal showers near the armory. What he wasn’t expecting is to find Akande there removing the bandage on his arm. Oh, and with just a towel precariously wrapped around his waist. Well, fuck.

Baptiste ponders turning around before Akande spots him, and his feet walk toward him on their own. Akande tries to get rid of the sloppy bandage single-handedly. He’s sitting on a bench, mumbling grunts and curses because the gauze is stuck to the wound by a patch of dried-up blood. 

“I’m not even going to ask,” Baptiste says in a teasing tone.

Akande lifts his head, the corner of his mouth pulling upward in a half-smile. “Good,” he says, “because I can’t tell.”

“May I?” Baptiste asks, sitting beside him. It’s already too late to consider what a terrible idea it is to get so close to an almost naked Akande.

“You’re the doctor.” Baptiste opens his mouth to correct him, but Akande chuckles. “Combat medic, I know.” He makes him smile and forget why he should stay away from him and find another solution to his problem.

The wound is slightly infected, swollen around the edges. It’s a superficial scratch that shouldn’t have gotten like this with proper care. As he removes carefully the improvised bandage, he wonders when did he get hurt again. “If you’re going to take a shower, I should patch you up after.” He sighs, wishing he had a first aid kit on his toiletry bag.

“I was careless,” Akande admits. He was so eager to get on the private jet to Rome that he didn’t notice a sharp edge and tore the suit, the shirt, and his skin.

“Distracted?” Baptiste shoots him a knowing glance.

“You could say that.” Akande meets his twinkling eyes, finding himself bare in the open not only because he’s mostly naked, but because this man undresses him with just one look. And he never cared about what others would think of him, but Baptiste… “It all came full circle tonight,” he says. Baptiste’s profile doesn’t fit in Talon. Sure, they recruit many military soldiers because they’re already trained and familiar with combat operations, but he’s not just a soldier. Baptiste joined the army for a humanitarian cause and feeds his money to a non-profit clinic on the side. He’s not the kind of man to become a mercenary.

“Mission went well,” Baptiste quips, fidgeting with his hands while he stares at his feet. He takes his trainers off, his fingers halting for a moment as he realizes if he takes a shower here and now, Akande will be there too. He gives a quick glance to the private stalls, and then to the open row of sprays he uses most of the time. He’s not a shy guy, and this is routine, except when you have to take a shower next to the guy that gets you hard with a smile. “You achieved what you needed, whatever it was,” he says.

Akande’s throaty chuckle curls his stomach. “Not everything.” And the low, sexy statement pools hot down in his groin. Akande turns at him, their thighs pressing against each other. “You know what I like after a mission like this?”

“Eight hours of sleep?” His voice wavers ever so slightly.

“I thought you were a lot more fun, Baptiste.” Akande lifts his hand until his knuckles caress the tattoo on his shoulder. Without the armor, the sight of smooth, dark skin makes his mouth water. He flinches under his touch but doesn’t pull away. Akande trails his knuckles up to his arm, following the ridge of his collarbone, and notes his Adam’s apple bob as he strokes the scruffy surface on his throat.

Baptiste swallows, the feather-touch of his fingers giving him goosebumps. “You got a crush on me, big guy?” he counter-attacks before he makes a fool of himself melting into a puddle at Akande’s feet.

“I needed to see you again.” Akande lifts his chin, his tongue wetting his lips while his gaze flicks to Baptiste’s mouth. The stubble on his jaw creates a shadow there, and Akande wonders how will he look like with a trimmed beard. He looks so young when he glances up at him with blown pupils and doubtful eyes.

“I don’t mix work and pleasure,” Baptiste blurts out. If he could, he would have kicked himself in the shin for it.

Akande smiles wide and predatory, as if he had felt the uncertainty in his words, the slight regret leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. “I’ll be in Rome until tomorrow,” he says, “which leaves us a few hours.” Baptiste swallows the lump in his throat. His jaw drops a little when Akande withdraws his hand and stands. He looms over him like an ebony God and smiles again. This time is more gentle, almost scared of being rejected, almost used to it. Baptiste blinks. “I’m going to take a shower, feel free to join me.”

The last words pound into his head at the rhythm of his heart. At least he can say he tried. Baptiste cocks his head when Akande turns around and tosses the towel on the bench, walking toward the spray unabashedly, showing off, driving him mad. He wasn’t expecting Akande making a move on him like that. Baptiste stands, sliding his tank top over his head as he tries to tame his breathing and the urge to let that man get under his skin. All over his skin.

One night to get him out of his system, to go back to normal. Baptiste was never good at thinking clearly with a horny mind. “No way,” he mutters. Shaky hands move to the waistband of his trousers, thumbs sneaking inside to pull down the stretchy fabric as he tries to find one reason -just one- to convince himself to leave and reject him. But his eyes betray him, ogling that godly man in all his glorious nakedness.

The water slides down the length of his body, creating translucent strikes of water that follow the curve of his muscles, the shape of his muscled back, and down the round cheeks of his backside. His belly gives a little squeeze at the sight, his front teeth scraping his lower lip and letting go slowly. Baptiste feels the urge to dart his tongue on the dip of his spine, imagining how that pair of lush butt cheeks would feel into his hands. His cock perks up at the prospect, and that’s the last thing he needed to shred his self-control.

Akande is facing the wall, oblivious to Baptiste’s struggle and how the sight of his wet, naked body arouses him to no end. Akande glances at him over his shoulder, hands massaging the shampoo on his head. Baptiste’s eyes lock with his, and he clears his throat, pulling his pants and underwear down and stepping out of them in a bit of a hurry. His eyes snag on his bare torso, mouth pulling upward in an unnerving smile. Akande knows he has won, and Baptiste realizes he never stood a chance.

Baptiste walks to the tiled space beside him. He’s half-hard, and every moment he spends there, blood rushes down his body and fogs his judgment. The cold spray makes him wince, but it heats up soon. He moves his head under the stream, a hand searching blindly for the gel dispenser on the wall.

“You’re here,” says the tower of muscle beside him.

“Captain obvious,” Baptiste mutters, a nervous chuckle coming out of him. He risks a glance at him, and the sight finishes hardening his cock so fast he feels dizzy. Akande lathers a good amount of gel over his torso, a soapy hand sneaking down. “Fuck,” he curses in a shaky breath. He glimpses the impressive length of his cock, the thick head covered in bubbles, the unashamed pull of his fist as he strokes himself, gathering the skin up until it covers the head and down again to reveal the most beautiful, round tip he’s ever seen. His mouth waters and he’s not so sure he hasn’t even drooled a little.

Akande laughs, but it dies in a sultry moan when he cups his balls and tugs as if he were just cleaning up. The short black hair seems to repel the water as it washes the remnants of shampoo. Meanwhile, Baptiste is paralyzed, enjoying the show with a hand full of gel that hasn’t even touched his skin. He goes to fist his raging cock in a slippery fist. He presses a hand on the tiles for support, his eyes closing for a brief second as if pretending this is just a fantasy. But it’s not.

Akande watches him with lustful eyes, with the same intent gaze he offered before, and he basks in it. It’s been ages since he has felt the desire of someone else wash over him warmer than the hot water pouring down his chest. Akande keeps toying with his balls and up to stroke his dick, swelling under his touch and his shameless gaze. Baptiste mumbles another curse.

They toy with each other, mimicking on themselves what the other does. It is quiet, accompanied by the noise of the water and the occasional throaty moan. Baptiste is about to blow his load and the man hasn’t even touched him yet, and Akande fears Baptiste will be his undoing for he has never wanted someone as much as he desires him.

“You’re just going to watch?” Akande dares, his voice full of the lascivious desire of feeling his hands on him and not his own. He’s craving an unfamiliar hand on his cock. Baptiste’s all the better. “I don’t bite,” he teases, “well… maybe if you encourage me.”

Baptiste realizes there is no coming back from where they stand. Even if he strokes himself a bit faster and nuts all over the tiles, he’ll want more. He’ll want that cock in his mouth, in his hands, splitting him open. His hole clenches at the thought. Akande’s dangerous smirk tempts him with the best of fantasies, and he turns the water off and takes a step toward him.

With Akande’s stream gone too, only dripping noises and their own hitched breaths echo in the place. As soon as he’s close enough, Akande brackets him against the cold wall behind them, big hands at both sides of his waist. He leans down to nuzzle against his temple, and from all the stupid things Baptiste could say, like: kiss me already, bite me, do whatever you want with me, he comes up with the stupidest. “What if someone comes in?”

“One look at me and they’ll be gone,” Akande brags, shielding him against the tiles.

His hard cock pokes against his thigh, and when it brushes against his own, Baptiste bites back a whine. His skin prickles everywhere they touch. His hot body offering a nigh unbearable warmth when they’re just in an uninviting locker room. His hands mold his biceps, and the hardness of the muscles makes his cock drip a little.

“If you’re not sure…” Akande cups the side of his face, his thumb bumping on his lower lip.

Baptiste graces him with a sly smile and pushes his doubts to the back of his mind. He traps the tip of his finger into his mouth and sucks until he challenges the not-so-well-trained gag reflex he used to brag about. Akande’s growl coils deep down his groin as he humps against his body inadvertently. Baptiste sucks and twirls his tongue to tempt him.

“Now you’re giving me ideas,” Akande grunts, leaning down to steal a bite from the crook of his neck. Baptiste hums a moan into his thumb, pleased that he cannot speak nonsense while he’s busy teasing him. The thought of the man’s fingers in his ass goad him to suckle even harder, but Akande has other plans. This feels like a dream that isn’t really happening, and he clenches his teeth around his digit when Akande goes down his chest, mouthing desperately a wet path to his unattended cock.

Every curly hair of his chest tingles for more, his stomach flexing when Akande settles on his knees and runs a hot tongue up to the dip of his hip. His thumb is still in his mouth, and he has no intention to let go. With his other hand, Akande strokes his cock twice before he angles it toward his plump lips. He glances up at him with a half-smile, pushing Baptiste’s tongue down with his fingertip as he parts his mouth and puts those dick-sucking lips to work.

The tip of his tongue gathers the salty droplets at the head before he engulfs his needy cock into his mouth. “Fuck,” Baptiste muffles against his thumb. He reaches for Akande’s wrist while the other finds a much-needed support on his shoulder. The man is sturdier than the wall that keeps him upright.

Baptiste is no angel, and he’s way too horny to be innocently pushed into this despite what it might look like from the outside. He could have refused and escaped and he would be alone in his bed. Probably jerking off to a similar fantasy of what’s actually happening.

Akande hums something that reads more like a growl as he takes him in and out of his mouth. He devours him as though he were starving, shoving his hard cock deep into his throat and out to suckle at the tip and gasp for air. Baptiste’s legs falter, his mouth wide open while Akande draws circles on his flat tongue. He’s about to blow his load after two minutes of blowjob and he’s not even sorry about it.

His fingertips dig holes on his shoulder, his hips rocking into Akande’s willing mouth and seeking relief with no other care in the world. Whatever thoughts had him worrying about this are long gone, and Baptiste moans so loud he has forgotten where they are. Taking a shower here will never be the same, and he’s in serious trouble if he can’t shower in public without getting a massive hard-on.

Akande drags him out, glancing up at Baptiste. Half-hooded lids, chest heaving in unison with his ragged breath. A spit-licked thumb trails down his sternum and the happy trail below his navel. “I wanted a taste of you.” His hot breath puffs against his sac before he mouths at his balls, sucking and tugging while Baptiste watches him. He can’t remember ever being this hard before, trembling when Akande’s fingers wrap around his cock for a measuring stroke.

“Let me come.” Words blurt out of him needier than he intended, and Akande chuckles, standing and looming over him menacingly.

“Your wish is my command,” Akande whispers low and guttural against his ear. Baptiste trembles, winding an arm around his neck to avoid melting into a horny puddle.

His fingers tease Akande’s hairline, his hair too short to grab, but his muscles pulse with his movements, twitch under his fingertips. Their mouths are close enough to touch, to merge into one, but then a gel-slicked hand wraps around both their cocks and an embarrassing moan leaves his throat.

Baptiste realizes he’s not going to last long, his forehead pressed against Akande’s chest, his gaze fixed on his big, callous hand taking both their cocks into a slippery grip. The sight of them squeezed together, the delicate touch of their skin, their hard erections pressed together. Not even in his best dreams he was so turned on. The scene has him mesmerized.

“Do you like this?” Akande asks, his voice raspy as if he were about to burst too.

“Don’t stop,” Baptiste says, lifting his gaze to him. Mistake.

They’re sweaty, skin damp but no longer wet, he can’t feel the cold at his back anymore, only him, his hand, his body gliding against his own, crouching slightly so the angle of his hand is right for both. Baptiste fucks into his fist and grips tightly his nape to keep him there. Close and owner of his pleasure.

Akande smiles, working his hand faster, his balls ready to shoot all over themselves, but he’s waiting. He wants more. He feels the overwhelming need to kiss and bite Baptiste’s soft smile to his heart’s content, swipe his tongue until he tastes himself in his tongue, his savor lingering in him.

“I’m coming,” Baptiste whispers almost inaudibly, almost to himself.

And Akande takes his mouth with a muttered groan, slides his tongue inside him and invades him with every fiber of his being because that’s what he craved after a month wondering what it would be like. Someone he barely knows, someone that draws him to come back to a place although he belongs nowhere; to be here, by his side, to own and relish in earthly pleasures while they last.

Not too long. 

They pant into each other’s mouths, weary, trying to hang a little longer at the verge of their climax. Akande steers Baptiste to an impending orgasm following the shallow thrusts of his body, his hand sloppily wrapped around both their cocks. The hot gush of Baptiste’s release throws him over too, both kissing open-mouthed as they seek air and more kisses, their tongues out licking and tasting for as long as their orgasms tense their bodies and free them moments after.

Their gazes lock, chests heaving in unison for they are pressed together as one, their mingled cum dripping down his knuckles. Softening cocks still in his grip, Akande steals another kiss from those swollen, smirking lips before he takes a deep breath.

“That was satisfying,” Baptiste says, chuckling softly, almost shyly. Akande’s stomach flips despite the sudden disinterest he was waiting for. After a hook-up or a quick fuck he’s done, he never cares anymore and has no desire to keep fooling around. He already got what he wanted, his cock is soft, but his belly tumbles, full of butterflies, and his heart swells at the gorgeous man beaming at him in the afterglow of his climax. It’s because of his doing, and he’s damn proud.

“Was it?” he winks at him before he turns on the water and holds his hand underneath. Baptiste still clings to his neck, and Akande moves his other hand to his waist. Before considering what a huge mistake it would be, Akande speaks. “Come to my room with me.”

“Why?” It comes out harsher than he means, and a tad too loud.

“Because I’m leaving tomorrow,” he says, both hands keeping him in place in case he wants to escape his embrace before he’s ready to let him go, “And I’ve spent the past month wondering what would be like to have you in my bed.”

“Really?” Baptiste teases, the corner of his mouth pulling upward in a half-smile. “I haven’t thought about that at all.”

“Say yes.” The steam of the water heats them up before they get cold. “You won’t regret it.”

Baptiste chuckles, drumming with his fingertips on the back of his neck. “Yes, I will.”

“But not tonight.” His hands move down his body to give a gentle squeeze to his ass cheeks, turning Baptiste’s brain to mush. “I promise a good night.”

His cock tries to get hard again, and Baptiste yields. “You win, big guy.” One night to get his fill and forget about him. A few hours to know what it’s like to fuck him before he never does it again. That's Baptiste's masterplan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you're ready for the amount of smut that's coming your way xDD


	4. Chapter 4

Before Baptiste comes back to his senses, the door on Akande’s lodgings swooshes closed and he’s trapped inside with the man starring in his wet dreams. His back makes a thud noise when he tackles him against the nearest wall, all handsy with each other as if they hadn’t been naked in the showers hardly minutes ago.

“Fuck, you taste so good,” Akande grunts, clasping his jaw with determination as he devours him. Moving down, he mouths at the side of his neck, noting his pulse point against his tongue.

Baptiste swallows, wringing his cotton shirt and pushing back against the wall. His looming presence seems to disarm him, his kisses hot, and wet, his bites deliciously painful. He has no heart to stop him. “Right there,” he moans when Akande finds the spot that sends fireworks through his brain.

He stares listlessly at the room over a broad shoulder. It’s not too spacious, a luxury no headquarters can afford; a single bed against a wall that he doubts can fit them both, a side table with a bottle of water on top and -Baptiste grins- what looks like the door to a private bathroom. A chuckle rumbles out of him.

“What’s so funny?” Akande blinks at the bite marks and blotchy patches he has left behind.

“Nothing,” he croaks innocently. Akande meets his gaze, swiveling his hips forward as if his cock against his hip would coax an answer from him. It does. “You have a shower here, and you had to…” Akande groans before he traps his lips into a bite that feels like a kiss. “Okay, big guy,” Baptiste moans against plump lips. “I can imagine why anyone would want to take a shower with me. I’m irresistible.”

Both his hands sneak under his sweatpants to cup his butt cheeks, and Baptiste’s teasing tune dies in another moan, burying his face in the safety of his neck while he enjoys the fondling of his hands. Thank God they’re both wearing light clothes. He didn’t even bother with underwear, just threw a pair of clean sweatpants and a tank top and tried not to get hard thinking about what they’d be doing back here. He failed miserably.

They’re in Akande’s room, and he’s hard as a rock, soaking a wet spot on his lower garments. Akande’s hands squeeze and hug his cheeks, fingertips sneaking to tease his cleft. _This is happening. This is happening_. Baptiste’s thoughts are all over the place, but not even the realization this dangerous man is ready to make room for himself in his body and his mind can take the edge off the situation. On the contrary, it adds a dose of _I shouldn’t but oh god he’s hot_. And Baptiste’s so in need of a good fuck he’s about to beg for his fingers.

He tugs at Akande’s shirt in a futile attempt to take it off. Akande complies, rolling it over his head and tossing it aside, his body coming back to him like a wave on a shore. Baptiste has no time to gasp for air when Akande invades his mouth with his tongue, swiping over his lower lip, trying to find the last drop of air for himself. He feels too good, and when he finds the right angle to hump against his leg, Baptiste lets a moan free.

Akande smiles into the kiss at the thrusting of his hips against his body. Like when he was jerking them off, Baptiste seems to lose control the hornier he is, allowing him to explore unabashedly all the fantasies he’s been piling up. His round cheeks fit perfectly into his hands. They’re muscled and hard, and he wants to bury his face in between them to make him scream his name. He likes when his lovers get noisy, scream, ask for more, say his name as he works his cock inside them. He pinches his cheeks and Baptiste moans into his spit-licked mouth.

His hands encourage the gentle rocking of his hips, but Akande interrupts the kiss and wets his forefinger into his saliva before he comes back to tease and prod at his hole. “You’re gonna be so fucking tight,” he grunts, brushing the entrance and noting Baptiste’s desperate shudder. He thought he’d be more bratty.

“You better start prepping me or I’ll fuck you instead,” Baptiste retorts.

There he is, stealing a chuckle from him as organically as breathing. Akande pushes the tip of his finger inside him. “We have all night,” he says. 

The words churn his stomach because that’s something Akande never does. He doesn’t sleep with his lovers, much less a quick fuck with a guy, because that’s what this is. He would have him on his four on the bed with a lube-slicked hole and three fingers inside in ten minutes, ready for a good pounding session. But his mouth is like a bottle of good wine and he wants to savor every fucking drop, bask in them, steal more of the sweet noises that come out of him when he fucks him with a single digit while rutting their cocks like inexperienced teens.

“All night? I don’t think I’ll last that long,” Baptiste teases. He sneaks a hand between them, flicking open the button of his fatigues and sliding a trembling hand inside his boxer briefs. Akande’s thick length fills his hand, throbbing and already leaking on the tip. Everything he dreamed he would be. “Neither will you, big guy.” The nickname has a second meaning when he squeezes his girth up and down, freeing it from the enclosed trap of the elastic fabric.

At the common showers, he was too occupied letting Akande lead the encounter Baptiste had no chance to measure that gorgeous cock with his own hand. He runs the thumb over the tip, his mouth watering. He trembles and his hole tightens just by imagining him inside him.

“If we keep this up, we’re not gonna make it to the bed,” Baptiste mumbles.

“I have nothing against walls,” Akande quips with a grin.

“Me neither, but I’m about to cum in my pants and I’d rather have more inside me than your finger.” Baptiste quirks an eyebrow at him, and Akande bites his lower lip before he frees him from the enclosed trap of his arms.

Akande means to fetch the supplies, but one glance at Baptiste panting and he rolls his tank top to see again that beautiful, chiseled chest. He mouths and licks, relishing the curly body hair of Baptiste against his tongue. A loud groan brings a sly smile to his lips, and he latches on a hard nip until Baptiste comes up with another sweet moan of pleasure. He’d eat the man out alive, spend hours dawdling his body with a lazy tongue, tickling fingers, and harsh teeth. “I want inside you.” Akande growls, teeth gritting around a hard nipple, his hands grasping his waist and feeling a hard set of muscles underneath. “Now.”

Baptiste swears he has made a silly whine at the husky command, and he holds Akande’s head with both hands before he pushes him away, unable to resist the torture another second without the promise for more. He turns around, eager to escape his heated gaze, for a break from his breathless kisses so he can think about fucking, or better, not think how much he fucking likes those lips on him.

“Lube? Condom?” Baptiste braces himself on the wall, leaning on his forearm, his other hand pulling down his sweatpants until they pool around his ankles. “Big guy?” He glances back at him, propping his ass up as he reaches for his hole with a pair of spit-licked fingers. If the guy thinks he can take his time with him, he’s about to prove him wrong.

Akande’s cock twitches and his balls draw up tightly at the sight. For a split second, he’s unable to think or move besides _wanting;_ wanting _him_. His breath seizes in his chest, hands going to his butt cheeks for a shameless squeeze, spreading him open and watching how Baptiste pushes two fingers inside himself. Akande pats his hand away. “I’m going to do you right,” he mutters, forgetting about the supplies.

Akande realizes he’ll last three seconds -if not less- once he’s inside him, so he better takes his time now. He kneels on the sturdy floor, his big, warm hands cupping his cheeks as he takes a succulent bite on one of them. The flesh yields under the teasing of his teeth, of his kissing mouth and his greedy tongue. Baptiste’s ragged breath reaches him distant and muffled, his legs trembling when he gives a long stroke across his rim.

“Fuck, you’re not fooling around,” Baptiste says. His lips tingle for more of his kisses, tired of the relentless biting of his front teeth when he swallows a shameful whine.

“I want in there,” Akande teases, a smile on his lips. And then his lips on his hole and his hands spreading him wide open. Akande lashes his tongue out, and it’s not sweet, it’s not cute, it’s not just teasing anymore. He’s devouring him.

Baptiste bites his forearm and grounds his feet on the floor, spreading his legs apart to make room for that mouth that sucks at his sac without mercy and then darts against his hole with the sole purpose of driving him mad. His cock stands hard and firm between his legs, a clear trail leaking down his shaft and balls. Baptiste discards the idea of a soft, relieving touch because the moment his dick gets some attention he’ll shoot his load just by the swiping of his tongue alone.

This was a terrible idea. They’re too horny to be careful and prep with patience, but neither of them will settle for less than a fuck even if it lasts ten seconds. Baptiste runs his tongue over his lower lip mimicking Akande’s on his ass. He catches a glimpse of him and his belly curls in pleasure. Then a stiff tongue pushes inside him and he moans -moans- like a clueless virgin. His mouth feels so good that his tongue could steer him to completion. His hands hold him so forcefully he’s sure if his legs give up, Akande would hold him upright.

 _This is just sex. We’re just fucking_ , Baptiste keeps relaying in his mind. _Just sex_. “Just sex,” he mumbles out loud.

“What?” Akande puffs his hot breath against his spit-licked rim and sends a frisson through his spine.

“Fuck me.”

Akande stretches an arm and brings closer a travel bag that sat on the floor near the bed. “Stay there,” he says. He rummages on the inside for a few seconds and takes out a bottle of lube and a condom.

Standing again, he runs lube-slicked fingers where his tongue was before, his fatigues hanging loosely around his hips. Baptiste’s warmth envelopes the pair of fingers coercing his muscle. A moan escapes him, and Akande distracts him while mouthing at his neck. His fingers slide inside to the second knuckle and out again, his hole swallowing them up.

If his mouth was goading him to push back into his face and sit for the rest of the night, his fingers have Baptiste thrusting back and his cock dripping on the floor. A hot palm holds his left butt cheek and encourages his movements. Baptiste fucks himself onto his fingers while his cock thrusts into thin air. He’s gotta concede; the man knows what he’s doing, and his fingers toy with the muscle at will, stretching him deliciously fast.

“I told you to fuck me,” Baptiste pants, sensing Akande’s amused chuckle against his neck and his glorious body pressed behind him.

“Hold on for me,” he whispers, “you’re still too tight.” His fingers never stop sliding in and out of his ass, slow enough to edge them both. Baptiste bites back a moan, his hands crumbling into fists against the wall. “That long, huh?” Akande teases.

“Fuck, I hate you right now,” Baptiste grunts.

Akande exhales a throaty chuckle, nuzzling at the base of his nape. His hair is perfectly trimmed, the ends of the dreadlock braids barely reaching the base. He smells of the gel they shared in the shower with a musky hint. A thin veil of perspiration covers his skin, and Akande licks the sensitive area, giving him goosebumps.

“You know as well as I do that we both are going to blow as soon as I’m inside you.” Baptiste whimpers and Akande squeezes a third finger into the bundle, biting his lower lip when he notes again the wonderful tightness around him. “Wanna move to the bed now?” he whispers. “Or can you keep yourself upright while I fuck you here?”

The cocky bastard has him grabbed by the balls. Baptiste mumbles a curse, rocking back into those teasing fingers fucking his hole pliant. “Fuck me already,” he grunts. “C’mon man, don’t make me beg.”

At the suggestion, Akande’s cock drips a clear spurt on Baptiste’s exposed ass cheek. “I don’t have the patience nor the time for that tonight,” he retorts. They’ve been stretching the inevitable long enough.

Akande withdraws his fingers, tearing the condom open with his teeth. Baptiste’s hand reaches back and pulls his fatigues down his thighs. Akande lets them fall around his ankles as he rolls the condom on. Baptiste glimpses his size through the corner of his eye and takes a deep breath in and out. There are some decisions he will regret taking in the morning and yet he takes them anyway.

“You had to be big everywhere, didn’t you?” Baptiste mutters, watching Akande generously coat his length in lube. He flashes him a grin before scooting closer between his legs.

“I’m not even inside you,” he whispers, aligning his cock until the head nudges his hole. He rolls his hips up until his heat traps him. His hands find his sides for support, the grip slippery because of the remnants of lube.

“Just…” Baptiste takes a deep breath, “go slowly at first.”

Akande stays still, waiting for the nigh unbearable tightness to ease down. He strokes his sides, massages his butt cheeks. “I wouldn’t make this any less pleasurable for you than it is for me.” His lips press kisses on his shoulder, his hands moving to the front of his thighs as he slides in another inch. Baptiste moans, his spine beautifully arched against him in invitation. “What would be the point then?”

“What a gentleman.” The stretch and the burn leave him breathless, but those tender hands caressing his body and traveling up to his stomach feel like a drug. They soothe and distract him from the hard cock pushing inside him.

“And they say chivalry is dead,” Akande whispers low and sultry against his ear, swiveling upward until his hips mold his backside. Baptiste chuckles, his laugh dying in a moan when he bottoms out. They both let out a sigh of relief, savoring the moment they’ve been chasing since their time in the shower.

Baptiste relaxes enveloped in his arms, callous hands cupping his chest, his tank top still rolled out of the way. Akande sucks a bruise on his neck, his hot breath wheezing against his skin while he basks in the sensations of being hugged by his heat. 

The discomfort disappears in the shape of more caresses, the wide stretch of his girth turning deliciously pleasurable while naughty thumbs trace circles around his hard nipples.

Akande has to utilize all his self-control to take it slow, letting him adjust to his size while his cock throbs into the clenching trap of his ass. “You feel so good,” Akande mumbles, accompanying his words by shallow thrusts that push him a tad deeper every time. “You’re so hot.” Baptiste yields, his cheek resting against his arm, his breathing clashing against the wall. Akande lifts him up on his tiptoes when he bottoms out, tall as he is, and Baptiste loves every single inch of his cock stroking in and out of him at a leisurely pace.

“Big, fucking, everywhere,” Baptiste croaks, a moan dying at the back of his throat.

“Are you complaining?” Akande jests, pinching his nipples.

“Yes. Faster,” Baptiste urges, reaching for his cock. He doesn’t even jerk off, because if he does, he’ll come at the first tug. His own pre-cum leaking down his shaft makes the grip so comfortable he whines.

“I can’t,” Akande admits. He notes his hole tightening around him and grits his teeth to avoid the urge to slam into him twice and cum as hard as he can inside him. 

Everything about their encounter has him on edge; his deep, beautiful skin caressing his own, his chest heaving against his palms, his backside pushing back into his cock when he dares to pull out even the slightest. The guy wants more, but he can’t endure a long session and he’s not ready for this to be over just yet. That never happens, but he pushes odd thoughts to the back of his mind. As if he could afford them.

“You’re killing me,” Baptiste breathes out with a hint of smugness. He knows. If Akande pounds him like he suspects he wants, he’ll come. So he fucks him slowly, in and out of his hole at a torturous pace. He burns them at every long onslaught, and Baptiste loves taking every inch of his cock, groaning every single time it leaves.

Akande towers over him, his lips moving from the crook of his neck to his earlobe for a quick nibble, then he kisses his temple. He presses his forehead on the wall, his hips slamming right back up. Baptiste feels hot and sweaty, trapped between this tower of a man and a sturdy wall. He’s not so sure how long he can take this until his legs stop working.

“I’m gonna blow,” Akande mutters, a hand slamming against the wall at the same time his hips smack his ass cheeks. “You first.”

Baptiste is sore and burning, but it feels so good to be full and so well fucked he’s gonna get horny by the soreness that will await him tomorrow morning. “Don’t stop now,” Baptiste mumbles, “I’m almost there.”

Akande works his cock in and out his now wonderfully stretched hole. He rolls his hips up until he bottoms out and pulls out until only the very tip is inside him. His girth makes his legs tremble, the deep plunges of his cock measured to exertion. Baptiste strokes his cock at the rhythm of his slow-paced hips. He’s about to overflow from contained pleasure. Akande wheezes against his ear at every thrust, trying to delay his release.

“You squeeze me so good.” Baptiste clenches his ass on his way out, and Akande moans low and raspy just for him. His gauged movements seem to falter, those deep, long movements accompanied by shallow thrusts that brush exactly where he needs. “Do that again,” he commands.

Baptiste does, his hole tightening around his cock, his groin tensing, his balls drawing up ready for his release. Baptiste yields to the impending orgasm. “Right there, don’t stop.” Akande feeds him his cock until his balls slap his own, and Baptiste cries out, impaled by the thickest cock he’s ever had.

“You feel so good, so tight,” he mumbles as if relaying his own thoughts. He fills him to the brim, noting his body tensing, his ass clenching around him in the best way.

Baptiste strokes himself in a tight fist, and one tug is all it takes for him to shoot his orgasm and his load down his knuckles. He rides it out, his hole fluttering around the man splitting him open with expertise. He’s sure he’ll be gaping and sore, and more satisfied from this than any other sexual encounter he’s had in the past decade. He thanks Akande’s cock for delivering exactly what he needed to unwind.

Akande secures his hands on his hips, keeping him in place while he ravishes him from behind, not minding anything but the sweet-sounding noises coming out of Baptiste as he rides out his orgasm with his cock shoved deep inside him. Akande lets go, biting his shoulder while he pistons in and out of him for way shorter than he intended. Baptiste stands on his tiptoes, feet lifting off the floor for a second, his body slamming up and making him lose his balance if not for the trustworthy hands holding him. He trembles from overstimulation but smiles triumphantly when he notes his cock swelling inside him, feeling his release.

Two more mind-blowing plunges of his large cock are all it takes for Akande to spill, and he releases the slippery grip of his teeth to let out a satisfying moan. He fills the condom, thrusting deeper and deeper as if he hadn’t had enough. Akande thought he could play here and then fuck on the bed, but this man could command him into coming, and he would obey.

Akande wraps both arms around him, steadying them both as his cock goes soft and they catch their breaths. “That was quick,” Akande grumbles in a sigh.

“Not _that_ quick, big guy,” Baptiste chuckles. But it was short enough to leave them wanting more. The man fucked him as if he wanted to own him, his thrusts hard, stroking every place that mattered. _So much for a quick fuck_ , Baptiste curses inwardly.

“I wanted to do this since I saw you.” The whispered confession reaches his ears along with a waft of his breath, and his heart skips a beat. Akande holds the base of the condom and pulls out before he goes fully soft. Baptiste straightens, rolling his shirt down single-handedly. “Stay there,” Akande says, pulling his fatigues and underwear up before he goes into the adjacent bathroom to dispose of the condom.

Once alone, Baptiste exhales a sigh and wears his sweatpants again, turning around to a smirking Akande offering him a damp towel. “Thank you.” He cleans his hand. “You don’t happen to have a first aid kit, right?”

“In the bathroom.” Akande frowns.

“Well, now you stay there.” He beckons to the bed, cocking his head, and walks past by him to the ensuite.

Baptiste quickly washes the remnants of lube from his body, knowing he’ll have to stop by the common showers before he heads to his bunk. After he washes his hands and opens the mirrored cabinet, he finds a box with supplies and comes back to the room.

Akande has made himself comfortable, sitting on the bed, shirtless and wearing only his boxers. His stomach flips as it does every time he sees him, and his mouth quirks in a dopey half-smile. It must be the afterglow of the amazing, heart-breaking, toe-curling sex they just had.

“I know I’m good, but you didn’t have to hurt yourself again to see me,” Baptiste teases, sitting beside him. His legs are still like jelly.

Akande chuckles, letting him work on the wound on his arm. “This is unnecessary.”

“Are you the medic?” Baptiste arches an eyebrow at him, using a packet of medical gel to disinfect the wound. He’s right, this is superficial and it won’t kill him even if he lets it be, but he enjoys taking care of him; of people in general. Baptiste finishes quickly, applying a patch over the scratch. “All done here.”

Akande leans and kisses his lips in an impulse, lying to himself when he assumes it has to do with the alluring shape of his smile and how he’s been denied of his mouth as they fucked. “Thank you.”

“You don’t say that often, do you?” 

“You seem to get grumpy when I don’t,” Akande quips.

Baptiste smiles slyly, but clears his throat and averts his gaze before Akande can kiss him again. He would make a terrible mistake if they kissed and got lost in the other’s mouth. He could consider staying, letting the man toy with him for a while longer. “I should…” Baptiste cocks his head to the door. “... go.”

Akande takes the box, setting it aside. “Now that we finally made it to the bed?” he grins, and Baptiste smiles, the little hairs of his nape standing at the suggestion of more touching happening between them. He shouldn’t. He definitely shouldn’t.

“What are you going to do about it, big guy?” It didn’t take much convincing. Baptiste ignores the little voice claiming this will be the worst mistake he’s ever made. Because he wants another taste of whatever this is since it will be the one and only time. Even though it is a mistake.

Akande tackles him against the mattress, his heavy-muscled body pressing him down. He peels his clothes off without any resistance. Who could resist him when those lips devour his mouth as if he belonged to him? Baptiste gasps. He’s up for round two -literally-. They both are.


	5. Chapter 5

Baptiste wakes up to fingertips skimming back and forth his lower back. The sheets are tangled at his feet, his arm slacking over the edge, almost grazing the floor. As he anticipated, the bed is too small for the two, so they slept huddled against each other. Baptiste passed out thinking about getting up and leaving. He never got around to it, not even when he woke up at 4 AM with a thumping heart and the rashness of his actions weighed on his mind heavier than the body curled around him.

It took him a moment to realize where he was and who he was with. He thought about leaving, but Akande had an arm around his waist, a leg tucked in between his own, and he was awfully comfortable. He committed to five minutes of undisclosed intimacy before he would peel himself off of the hard mass behind him, but he fell asleep again.

He buries his face in the pillow, grunting softly as he always does upon waking up. Akande presses his body against him, kissing his nape in a gesture so tender Baptiste decides Akande has to believe he’s still asleep. Baptiste never stays after a one-night stand, let alone with a fellow Talon agent. Why would he do such a stupid thing? Now they’ll share an awkward moment as they continue with their lives as if nothing had happened between them. He refuses to open his eyes, the hairs at his nape prickling under his plump lips.

“You up for some action?” Akande whispers lowly into his ear, and Baptiste breath seizes in his chest. He wrecked him last night, and he wants some more, and oh god if Baptiste’s stomach doesn’t curl with lustful anticipation.

Lube-slicked fingers cup his butt cheek in a slippery grip while Akande presses open-mouthed kisses between his shoulder blades. “Fuck me before I go?” Akande mumbles. 

This time the air comes out of his lungs in a moan. In the heat of their second fuck, Baptiste promised to return the favor and pound Akande to orgasm. They never got around to it, falling asleep tangled and thoroughly sated. “Do you have time?” Baptiste asks. Because he has, all morning if that’s what Akande wants.

“I prepped while you were asleep.” Baptiste’s morning wood turns into a full, hard erection in a split second. Akande smiles slyly, thrusting against his ass so he can feel his dripping cock against his body.

Baptiste turns around in his arms, his hand finding a muscled butt cheek, fingertips sliding into a slippery rim. “You want me that bad?” he teases, noting the stretched entrance and wondering why isn’t he there already making true to his raunchy promises. Suddenly, he’s not so regretful not having left like a thief in the middle of the night. Perhaps they can elongate this encounter since it will be the last.

“Sex,” Akande grunts. “I want _sex_ that bad.” If he’s telling that to himself or Baptiste, he’s not so sure, those fingers sliding slightly inside, tempting him. Akande bites back the need to kiss that smug smile out of his lips and sneaks a hand between them to wrap around his cock. He strokes him from the base to the tip, a clear spurt smearing on his palm. “I’m not the only one wanting it badly.”

Baptiste leans forward and grunts as he nibbles his lower lip, rocking into his fisted hand. “Big guy,” he breathes out, “you’re gonna feel me all the way to wherever you’re going.” His lips creak in a half-smile.

“All the better,” Akande retorts. He fumbles for the bottle of lube and a condom, abandoned where the bed meets the wall. He tosses the supplies to Baptiste’s chest and rolls on his stomach.

“What a way to wake me up,” Baptiste chuckles, kneeling behind Akande. “Not that I’m complaining.” The bed is small but they make it work. Who needs space when they can just be on top of each other?

“I have twenty minutes.” Akande rests his head on his folded arms and arches his butt upward. When Baptiste scrapes his lower lip with his front teeth, he huddles a leg against his chest in invitation. “Twenty, pretty boy,” he relays when Baptiste ogles him motionless.

Well, fuck. Baptiste cradles his balls with his free hand, almost dropping the lube. If he touches his dick in front of that luscious sight he might come. Akande’s gorgeous, big body lies flat, waiting for him. Baptiste comes back to his senses, the lack of time finally registering in his brain. He rips the condom open and rolls it down his throbbing cock. His lubed hand eliciting a sweet moan from him.

“You sure I’m the pretty boy here?” Baptiste cleans his hand on the sheets and spreads his cheeks, his thumbs rubbing against his slicked hole. Akande grunts, lifting his ass.

“Don’t tease.”

Baptiste scoots closer, grinning like a fool. He has so many plans about what he wants to do to that pretty hole, if only they had more time. Straddling the leg stretched on the mattress, he dips the tip of his cock inside him. Akande wasn’t lying, he stretched well, his tight heat swallowing him despite the clenching of his hole. It cannot wrap around his mind how badly he wants him.

“All the way,” Akande huffs, tossing the pillow to the floor, his forehead resting against the bedding. He was sure Baptiste wouldn’t deny him this, not after how he talked him dirty last night. What he wants now is his promised cock completely inside him, and his muscled arms around him, although he would never confess the latter.

His mind is still drowsy. Minutes ago he lay asleep swathed by his warmth, oblivious to the horny man in his bed with his fingers up his ass waiting for him to awaken. Baptiste moans, sliding inside the snug trap of his body. He’s tight but tender enough he engulfs his cock. “My God,” he says between gritted teeth. His cock strained by his channel, Baptiste waits a few seconds, admiring the sight of his hole taking his girth, his body moving along with his breathing, waiting for him.

He runs a hand from his tailbone to the base of his neck and back again, feeling the powerful man submitting to him so effortlessly. Baptiste will never get used to the hardness underneath his thick skin, to the combat-ready muscles twitching with every breath. He’s built and well trained, but touching Akande feels like caressing a weapon ready to snap. A sexy body built in endless sessions of grueling training that only makes the man even more dangerous. And yet he trusted him enough to let him into his bed, into his body.

Lost in his worshiping thoughts, Baptiste rocks his hips, his cock stroking in and out of him. He notes the muscle easing at every plunge, the thrusts getting deeper, his balls smacking against him. Akande holds a beautiful arch on his spine, enjoying him with subtle grunts and not-so-subtle moans.

Baptiste’s hand grasps a butt cheek, bracing himself on the bed with the other. He’s mesmerized by the way he enters him over and over along with the swaying of his hips. He’s long gone, his cock swelling and already demanding release. What is it about this man that drives him mad with want? “Fuck,” he curses, shoving himself balls-deep with a snap, his body sliding forward. His forehead presses in between his shoulder blades, his mouth panting against his slightly sweaty skin. He keeps rocking into him as if they had all the time in the world to fuck each other senseless.

“Is that all you got?” Akande gasps, glancing back at him. “You promised a pounding.”

Baptiste chuckles. “I was getting you used to my cock, big guy.” He spares kisses over dreamy, dark skin. Buried to the hilt, he wraps an arm around Akande’s thick thigh, anchoring his knees on the bed. He pulls out, his stiff cock slipping outside. He’s so hard he comes back in a gauged onslaught and is suddenly hugged by his hole again. “Is that hard enough for you?” Without waiting for an answer, Baptiste slams home again.

“Like that.” Akande trembles when he brushes past his prostate, a surge of pleasure making his cock twitch. “More.” Baptiste pins him to the mattress, doing as promised, pushing him down against the soft sheets. The friction against his throbbing length tightens his groin, the man behind him giving as well as he took last night. Akande knew he wanted it, not knowing when they will see each other again, assuming they won’t. Because they can’t, they shouldn’t. He detoured from his initial plan of getting the sexy, snarky doctor out of his head with a quick fuck.

Baptiste mouths at his neck, nibbling and fucking him as hard as Akande did on their second encounter. He smacks his ass at every thrust, the noises of flesh against flesh mimicking their ragged breaths. Last night, they made the mistake of kissing for too long, touching for too long, and they were hard and needy in no time. Akande manhandled him on his four, and Baptiste thanked him for it because that’s all he needed. He came at the third thrust of that wonderfully shaped cock prodding against his prostate. Baptiste asked for more, boneless, struggling to keep himself upright. It had been so long since he had it that good, since he got exactly what he needed without asking for it. Akande filled him so good and so full his second orgasm leaked out of him thrust by thrust.

Now is the other way around, and he can feel Akande trembling, so he aims for the same angle, harder, deeper, his fingers digging holes on his thigh in a forceful grip. “You’re driving me mad,” Baptiste mumbles when Akande squeezes his ass whenever he pulls out. He’s at the brink of orgasm and aching to spill inside him. “Come up a little, let me jerk you off.”

“No,” Akande grunts. “Like this, I’m close.”

Baptiste slams into him, realizing Akande is getting off by the friction against the bed and his dick filling him. He lies on top of him, tired, his skin oozing heat, droplets of a breaking sweat taking form down his back. “Fuck, that’s hot, big guy,” he says. He’s holding his breath, trying to give him what he wants while his cock swells at every seamless plunge.

“Oh, yes, yes.” Akande’s desperate cry gets muffled against the mattress, his hips fucking the bed while Baptiste fucks him. He wrings the bedding with both hands, his jaw clenched, his hole tightening and his length bushing the sheets until he spills. The impending orgasm they’re chasing takes over, Baptiste’s hips snapping frantically as Akande rides out his climax.

They come together, his hole milking him dry. Baptiste slams twice into him before he shoots his load balls-deep inside him. His body trembles as he fills the condom and falls boneless on top of him, sweetly trapped by Akande’s pleasure, debauched by his own. Wanting to feel it, Baptiste sneaks a hand between the bed and his body, the sheets ruined and sticky, his cock softening after his release. He fists his cock and smiles when Akande whines. Such a sweet-sounding encouragement. “Fucking hot,” he teases. “I’m not even going to ask if you liked it.”

Akande chuckles, already missing his weight on his back when Baptiste straightens. He pulls out, tying a knot on the condom and leaving it on the bedside table before he slumps back beside him. They’re snuggled together, a dopey smile stretching on his lips, the strings of sleep pulling down his eyelids. Akande crawls on top of him, drinking a gasp directly from his mouth and stealing another kiss that shrinks his heart.

He takes his mouth as though he had time to savor him, nibbling on his lower lip, dipping his tongue inside, a growl rumbling in his throat all the while. Baptiste trembles, arms and legs winding around him instinctively. Before he can bask in the never-ending kiss, Akande pulls away, almost leaving him pouting and gasping for more. 

“Stay and sleep a little longer. It’s too early.”

“Your twenty minutes are over?”

“I don’t even have time for a shower, but you do.” The thought of Baptiste’s scent on his skin until he arrives at his hotel in Numbani swells his heart, but the reminder of coming back to his country to eliminate the last remnants loyal to Adeyemi changes his mood slightly.

With a groan, he rolls off Baptiste and onto his feet, grabbing his phone and confirming he’s late. It’s almost six, the hour he was scheduled to leave. Akande pulls out a few pieces of clothing and starts dressing up under Baptiste’s relaxed gaze.

Baptiste watches him gather his stuff with sleepy eyes, defeated by their encounter and needing more sleep. He’s considering taking up his offer, staying until he has to show up for training practice, even taking a lonely shower here instead of the communal showers. A luxury he doesn’t have often.

“Hey,” Baptiste croaks. Akande picks up his travel bag and glances at him with a brief half-smile that doesn’t last on his lips. “Be safe, big guy, I won’t be there to patch you up.” He means to ask when will he be back; if he’ll be back. But that means breaking another one of his rules: wondering when will his one-night stand want to turn this into a two-night thing. He wants him to kiss him slowly again, to feel his lips on his mouth before he’s gone, but he can’t bring himself to ask for it.

Akande takes in the view, the sight of him naked, his bubble but peeking over the sheets. He has the face of someone thoroughly fucked, boneless, about to fall into a dreamy place after losing himself in his body. He wished he could stay, wrap around him like he’s never done before. If he could at least find him like that in his bed every night the weight over his shoulders would be less heavy.

“I know where to find you.”

It sounds like a promise, but the door swooshes closed and Baptiste realizes he was holding his breath like Akande was holding his answer. He felt his eyes on him like a pair of embers. The bed is soft -and empty- and he sinks into it, eyes closing shut. The hardness of his body is gone. Akande is gone. But his skin remembers him and he wonders if it will ever forget him.

Baptiste drifted into sleep quickly but his alarm went off at 7 since they’ve been stationed here sort of permanently. It takes him a moment to realize where he is and who isn’t with him. He scrambles out of bed, follows the chiming of his phone to his sweatpants and turns it off, coming back to warm sheets as he wakes up.

The memories of last night -and this morning- send a rush of excitement through him. It happened, his body, sore muscles and ass are proof enough. His dick perks up and he opens his eyes wide. “Don’t even think about it,” he mutters, chastising himself for the teenage rut that conquers him whenever he thinks about Akande.

Baptiste checks his phone, and curses when he has little time to make himself presentable and join the team for their daily training. The toiletry bag and the fresh shower he intends on taking will diminish his walk of shame. Mauga wouldn’t give him shit for not sleeping in the bunk, right? He groans, but then notices a few messages from a while ago. Unknown number.

_Thank you for last night._

_And this morning._

In his sleepy state, a lazy smile stretches on his lips, and against his better judgment, his fingers tap a reply: _When will you be back?_

_Missing me already?_

“Shit,” he curses at the prompt reply. _I’m still in your bed_. Baptiste changes the subject quickly, tempted to turn his phone off before he makes a fool of himself. After a few seconds that seem ages, a reply pops up on the screen.

_I don’t know, soon I hope._

Baptiste smiles, relieved. Although he’s not sure if because of Akande’s answer or that he didn’t mind he asked. _I’m gonna use your shower now._ Baptiste stands, taking his phone with to the ensuite. The shower cabin looks as tempting as the solitude he will enjoy without the ruckus of a bunch of Talon agents forming a beeline for a two-minute shower.

_I’m going to imagine you naked there while I get some shuteye on my flight._

Another unplanned smile comes easily to his lips. No matter how many times he warned himself not to fall for the man, he broke all the rules, and it’ll blow up in his face eventually.

_Sweet dreams, big guy._

Their short conversation was enough to put a stupid grin on his face during his shower, and when he grabbed a quick bite at the mess hall, and it lingered when he showed up late to the practice and his noisy friend pointed it out, almost choking on a fit of laughter. So much for not giving him shit. The good mood stuck with him for the rest of the day, and at some point, he decided not to fight it any longer and just ride it out. He had amazing sex, with a hot semi-stranger that seemed not to have enough of him, and no one can take that from him.

But the initial delight faded as time went by, the consequences of his actions sinking in. Akande was a hook-up, his crush will eventually crush his heart, and as he should have anticipated, they had a night of mutual relief and nothing else. Whatever tenderness he felt, caring hands or loving words from a man that seemed to want to seep under his skin, it was a product of his imagination.

The first two weeks went by fast. Akande never called, they haven’t texted either besides that morning, and Baptiste is almost over the need to feel his lips on his skin again. Almost. At least his team got to spend a few days away from the headquarters. They went from Paris to Monaco, escorting a high-level prisoner. The whole thing had Baptiste unsure from the beginning, realizing he had to get himself disassociated with Talon before his actions would become irreversible. The prisoner looked like a woman. He never saw her face, never got close enough to do something, to force himself to think beyond his orders and stop this nonsense. Is there even room for redemption after all this time?

His rambling thoughts drift to Akande again, distracting himself from the real issues is taking a toll on him. He’s not sore about the lack of communication since he shouldn’t have expected more. To be honest, it’s not like he never promised to call a guy who he messed around with and never ended up doing it. People change his mind all the time, and Akande is no different.

The door of his shared bunk closes behind him, and he locks it. He’s glad Mauga has plans to visit the gym, loneliness suits him well enough now. Baptiste decides he’s over Akande except when he finds himself daydreaming about seeing him again. If they coincide again. Not that he knows about Akande’s whereabouts, his plans to come back to Rome, or his intentions to see him again. It’s been so long since their last conversation that texting him seems foolish.

Baptiste throws his backpack on a corner of the room and slumps face first on his bed. He toes his shoes off with a groan and loathes what his life has become, or what he has become: a mercenary with a crush on a Talon leader. Perfect, great, exactly what he envisioned his future would hold.

Someone knocks at his door, but before he can pretend he’s not there, it springs open. “Hey,” Sombra says, stepping inside, the control panel flashing a purple skull before it goes back to normal again.

“I hate when you do that,” he grumbles against the pillow. “I’m sleeping,” he mutters.

“Mentiroso.” He’s aware he’s lying, hoping Olivia takes the hint and leaves him to dwell on his pity party. Weary, jet-lagged, and in a terrible mood, the last thing he needs is his friend meddling in. Baptiste grunts softly, the mattress bouncing when she sits by his side, a hand patting his upper back. “You okay? You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” he croaks, turning his head to look at her.

“I have good news and bad news, which one do you want first?” Sombra wiggles her eyebrows.

“Only the good ones, you can keep the bad for yourself.” Baptiste props up and sits with his back against the wall.

“You-know-who inquired about you during my last mission,” she says with a mischievous smile. “He asked for the details of your assignment and seemed quite… disappointed when he found out you were gone.”

Baptiste runs a hand over his face, then glares at her. “Don’t feed my crush,” he snaps. “I’m over the guy, he’s not interested and I’m fine on my own.” He realizes he sounds too sore. Baptiste misses him; the sex, he corrects himself in his mind. It’s all about that. It was too good, too intense, and his lack of sexual activity is why he’s obsessed with him. He wants to fuck around again, wants to feel his hands, his mouth, his impressive cock sliding in and out of him. He groans out loud, gathering his knees up and leaning his head on his folded forearms. Although that doesn’t explain his heartache or the slight excitement tumbling his stomach at the possibility of Akande being in Rome.

“Sorry, dude,” she says.

“And the bad news?” he finally asks, meeting her cunning eyes.

“You just missed him,” she purses her lips, “he left the headquarters yesterday.”

Baptiste rolls his eyes, his head bumping back on the wall behind him. “It’s better this way,” he mumbles. “How do you always find out people’s secrets, smartass?” She has a strange way of delivering information, but he appreciates Sombra keeping him on the loop of things. He has lost count of the many times she has told him about the clinic’s struggles when not even Roseline would confess them to him.

“Information is power,” she shrugs. “And I like you.” The corner of her mouth curls upward at the statement before she loses her smile again. “I know you said it was a one-time thing but…”

“It is a one-time thing.” More like a one-time fit-all-you-can-in-between thing, since it happened more than once, more like four times in one night. But she doesn’t need to know that.

“Looks like it’s more than that. No judgment here.”

Baptiste chuckles, feeling a rush of heat traveling up to his cheeks. “Thanks for the heads up, I appreciate it.” Baptiste lifts a fist in the air and she bumps it, rolling her eyes. She’s dismissed and she knows it.

“I know we don’t get to choose who we fall for,” she says, motioning toward the door, “but you hit the jackpot.” Irony oozes out of her words.

“Are you even my friend?” Baptiste jests.

“Always, mijo,” she winks. “I just wanted to let you know since you have his number and all…”

“Sombra,” Baptiste warns, a half-smile on his lips. “Good night.” She waves him goodbye as the door closes shut behind her, and Baptiste slumps back on his pillow. He’s been brooding for two weeks, but is he that obvious?

Against his better judgment, he takes his phone out as he has done many times during the past two weeks. Akande is still just a number, their conversation right where they left it. _I arrived after you were gone,_ he types. The message is ready to send, his thumb hovering over the screen. Akande may not even be using this number anymore, so what is there to lose? Baptiste hits send, dropping the phone on his chest.

He’s a fool, the rapid beating of his heart is proof enough of his foolishness. The phone vibrates, and he winces as he picks it up.

_I missed you yesterday, but I had to leave, couldn’t wait for you._

Baptiste smiles. That was fast. He types his reply just as quickly before he realizes at his almost thirty years old he’s still a teenager with a crush on an unreachable man. _Better luck next time, big guy_.

That’s enough to feed the urge to see him again, the fantasies about their skins gliding against each other with nothing in between but sweat and unfulfilled dreams. At the pregnant pause, Baptiste realizes that’s the end of their conversation when an incoming call flashes on the screen of the device.

“Hey.” He picks it up, the corners of his mouth pulling upward.

“I think I can be there next week though,” Akande says. His voice comes in a deep whisper that wraps around his heart. “It’s been too long.” He truly has missed him. Baptiste wonders where he is, in which part of the world, if he’s in danger, or hurt, or planning to risk his life for the wrong ideals. He shouldn’t care, but he does.

Baptiste chuckles. “Do you have plans for me or what?”

“What are you doing?” Akande asks.

“Lying in bed.”

“Alone?”

“For now.” Baptiste’s voice trembles. “Why?”

“To tell you all about my plans,” Akande says with a smug tune he knows all too well after just one night together. His stomach curls nice and warm, his hand moving inadvertently down his crotch. “Plans that include your cock in my mouth again,” he whispers, “and the other way around, if you can take it,” he teases.

And just like that, Baptiste is hard, and whatever thoughts of staying away from him lurked his mind are long gone. Not making the same mistake twice? Too late for that, he’d do it a thousand if Akande asks him in that smokey voice of his. “You still there?” Akande asks.

Baptiste palms his swelling cock over the thick fabric of his fatigues, biting back a moan. “I like where this is going,” he says. “Tell me more, big guy, I’m all ears.”


	6. Chapter 6

Phone sex has never been this fun and exciting before Akande was the one purring dirty words from the other side of the line, making him come hard and long; his smokey voice like a command to his poor dick. Baptiste had to admit he was head over heels for the guy, but he could mask the feelings behind his attraction, and the sex, and horny conversations.

For the past ten days, they’ve talked on the phone every other night, the conversation always straying from the obvious butterflies tumbling his stomach to how horny they are and how much they want inside each other’s bodies. It’s been fun and refreshing, and it gave him less time to dwell on his unresolved -and surely unrequited- feelings for Akande. This is about sex and sex alone.

Baptiste still wants to see him, feel him, and far from sating his thirst, the phone calls, texts, and video calls aren’t nearly enough. They take the edge off but leave him wanting more, aching to experience again the soreness after a good session of sex, the relentless pounding of his cock, the lack of air and fireworks before an impending climax, and the massive dick he has yet to taste.

And he’s getting hard in the gym and wishing this is one of the lucky nights they can spend a few minutes making each other cum over the phone. Neither of them seems to have enough.

The dumbbell feels unbearably heavy as he finishes the fourth set with his left arm and exchanges it with his right. A new song pops right into his ears, making him hum a tune. He leans the back of his upper arm on the inside of his knee and starts what should be his last set of the night. His muscles are sore, his biceps swollen. It makes him think of Akande’s long, powerful arms; how he can hold him so tenderly when he could truly crush him with superhuman strength.

Fuck, he’s hot, and Baptiste is so fucking in l...lust. Sometimes he finds a glimpse of his taste on his lips, but it’s just his imagination. He thinks about him when taking a shower in the same locker room where they first hooked up, when he gets into bed horny and sweaty and refuses to get off thinking about him for half a second before he concedes.

Baptiste hates falling for the wrong guys, that’s why he hasn’t fallen in love with anyone for years and years. He perfected his defenses, and at the first sign of disinterest or a relationship, he puts distance between them -which should be terribly easy being in Talon- but with Akande, nothing works. Even if he tried, he cannot stay away; he misses him when he’s gone and wonders when he’ll be back.

The dumbbells make a thud noise when he returns them to the rack, and Baptiste groans as he stretches his well-worked muscles. He tucks the ear pods on a pocket of his gym bag, deciding it’s time for a shower and a warm bed. The gym facilities are empty, unsurprising when it’s almost midnight on a working day.

But to his surprise, he’s about to down a bottle of water when the double doors spring open and Akande comes in with a smug smile as if he knew he’d find him here. Their gazes meet, and Baptiste smiles, taking a few long gulps of water that quench his thirst but not his other _thirst_.

Smiling at each other in the distance, Akande strides in his direction. Baptiste’s heart thumps faster. He distracts himself toweling dry the droplets of sweat on his forehead. His stomach flips, and his gaze softens as though all the worries had gone to hell in his presence. That’s what worries him the most, how easily pleased he is with just him being here.

“I’m back,” Akande says. A gym bag hangs from his shoulder, and he wears grey sweatpants and a snug tank top. Does this guy even buy clothing his size?

“And…” Baptiste trails off, making a show of inspecting him closely. Big, round shoulders, the body he craves at night and aches to feel against him. Akande is right where he needs him, and a surge of joy fills him with excitement. “And you’re not hurt. Congratulations!” Akande chuckles, and Baptiste grins. 

“I meant to call, but I thought I’d surprise you instead,” Akande says, his hands squirming in the pockets of his sweatpants. He looks like a regular guy with evil intentions to get into his bed tonight, and Baptiste is going to give him a free pass. “Are you finished here?” The corner of his mouth quirks upward mischievously.

“You just arrived. Aren’t you even going to pretend to work out?” Baptiste teases. If he wants him, he’ll go, but Akande will have to fight a bit for it.

“Wanna wrestle?” Akande arches an eyebrow at him and Baptiste scoffs. Although he didn't mean literally. “Unless you’re too tired… or too scared.”

“Are you any good?” Baptiste folds his arms over his chest, cocking his head to the side. Akande lets out a deep, throaty laugh that prickles all the little hairs at his nape. “Am I in trouble?”

“Maybe,” Akande whispers, closing the distance between them and tossing the gym bag on the floor.

Baptiste takes a step forward, his eyes moving from his chin to full lips stretched in a sly smile. He clicks his tongue playfully. “Bring it on, big guy.”

Akande grasps his wrist with a hand and the back of his head with the other. He gasps into his mouth, pulling him forward until Baptiste is close enough to decide if he wants this as much as he does. It takes him less than a second to push their mouths together. Baptiste muffles a moan against his tongue, chasing the taste of him with a deep, wet kiss, tongue invading his mouth, bodies pressed in a full-body caress from hip to chest. His stubble scratches Akande’s recently shaved jaw, his lips parting and his tongue swiping against Baptiste’s. The kiss is hungry, desperate, savage; stiffens his cock and leaves them both panting for air for as little as it lasts.

“That couldn’t wait,” Akande groans, nibbling on his lower lip, the grip on his neck easing gently.

“I’m kind of addictive,” Baptiste brags. “Not even five minutes and you’re all over me.” Akande kisses him again to shut his sassy mouth, but this time it’s slow, measured, still full of desire.

“I’m going to kick your ass,” he breathes out against his lips.

“Out of all the things you could do to my ass…” Baptiste flirts.

“I haven’t even started.” The threat does silly things to his stomach, and before he can think any better, Baptiste is with his back against the mat, shirtless and sweaty. 

They moved their stuff to one of the combat training rooms. Akande took his shirt off, showing off as always, and Baptiste did the same, relishing in the low growl that rumbled in his throat as he exposed his torso just for his greedy eyes. Then shoes went off, and he regretted a bit tempting him with a workout because what he really wants right now is to get pressed against the mat, but with fewer clothes and rules. 

Akande offers him a friendly hand and props him up to his feet. “You okay?” His voice teasing.

“Nothing a little T.L.C. can’t fix.” Baptiste winks, getting ready for another round.

They circle around each other, Akande predatory and sure of himself, Baptiste scrutinizing every movement so he doesn’t end up on the floor again. He’s in so much trouble but they’re shooting smiles and glances at each other, having fun and enjoying the closeness of the combat. Baptiste dodges Akande’s direct move since it’s the same he tried on him moments ago. He grabbed his leg and took him down effortlessly, and he’s not falling for it again.

“You better get creative,” Baptiste teases, and Akande’s smile widens.

“Fast learner.”

As time goes by and they exchange moves and holds he hadn’t practiced since his military training, his breathing becomes laborious due to the exertions. Akande is not fooling around and his only purpose seems to be pinning him to the mat over and over. Sweat pours down his forehead, his skin oozing heat.

Baptiste hasn’t taken him down once, and he has hit the floor more times than he’s proud to admit. But it is as though he wanted it. He lets him, and at the same time, he knows he has no choice. He isn’t sure when has their little game turned into flirting and foreplay, but when the guy knocking him down makes sure he doesn’t get hurt, they’re not just wrestling but playing a very different game.

“I’ll have you on your back before you know it, big guy,” Baptiste teases with a ragged breath and a wink.

“Oh, I look forward to it.” Akande reaches for his arm, but Baptiste dodges swiftly. The best offense here is to keep his distance. Akande is bigger, faster, and he doubts anyone can handle him easily in one on one combat. He used to compete professionally when he was younger, and it shows. Baptiste aches to know more about that part of his life, before the mercenary life, Talon, and Doomfist.

Akande stares into his coffee-like eyes, letting him slip through his fingers only to revel in the sweet smile that stretches his lips right after. When he got to the base, he already knew where to find Baptiste. Akande had hoped to snatch him from this place and into his bed since that has been the only thought lurking his mind for the past few weeks. But there’s something about Baptiste’s company that curls his stomach and swells his heart. It doesn’t matter if they’re fucking or talking, Akande loves every single bit of it. He tried to fool himself by believing Baptiste is just a guy he likes to mess around with while it’s convenient for both, but then he took three flights to get here to spend two days in Rome before he travels to Venice again. Akande hopes to repeat their last encounter, but he’s not in a hurry.

He never lets people under his skin. He has been with many guys over the years, keeping it casual, no attachments, but Baptiste remains in his mind unless he’s in the heat of battle, and he comes back as soon as he’s safe in his bed, wounded or weary. Nothing scares him, but the way that man stormed into his heart to call it home terrifies him.

Akande grabs his arm and pulls until his back crashes against his chest. Baptiste tries to balance himself, but in his attempt to escape, he ends up on the floor. His knees and hands hurt when he falls, and they buckle when Akande follows him down to the mat with a strong arm around his chest, preventing him to get crushed under his weight. He moves his forearm under his throat, securing another pin on him, and Baptiste breathes out a sigh of defeat.

“Okay, you’re good. Too good,” he concedes. Akande chuckles low and throaty near the shell of his ear, curling his stomach deliciously right. “I can’t take you one on one.”

“You could…” Akande buries his nose into his sweaty neck. “If you play dirty,” he whispers. Baptiste stiffens his arms and thrusts back into him, trying to push him off, but the only thing he manages is to feel the hard shaft pressed against his tailbone. “It’s fun to see you try, though.” He’s smug, and it almost infuriates him if not because Akande pinning him down is turning his wits upside down and his cock hard.

Baptiste stifles a moan, a hand gripping Akande’s wrist, his knees buckling down and up again to grind against him. Two can play at that. Big thighs press behind his hamstrings, a thick forearm secured around his neck. It’s not tight, he can breathe, but part of him craves the struggle. Unable to move, unable to breathe, Akande’s hot searing mouth sucking a patch of skin on his neck. The man could shove his sweatpants down and he’d beg for it.

“You like this,” Akande whispers. “You like it rough?” His hips thrust back and forth. “I can do rough,” he promises in a sultry tune and Baptiste’s cock jerks at the suggestion. He never found sex this intense to the point he wants it raw and fast as long as he can feel him.

Baptiste turns his head around. “Touch me,” he mumbles against his mouth. “Or fuck me right here and now.” Akande growls, releasing his grip on him, his hand sneaking inside Baptiste’s sweatpants to wrap around his hard, leaking cock.

He can’t fuck him here no matter how much he begs. They have no condoms, no lube. His mind is a rambling mess, his balls tight and ready at the prospect of shoving himself deep in his heat. What this man does to him is indescribable. He never loses control, and yet here he is, considering ways to own him without being a selfish asshole, and that never bothered him before. He asked for it. “Are you s-u…?”

Akande wavers, bracing himself on a single arm with another hand full of his dick. As soon as the weight is off him, Baptiste pushes up against his stomach and rolls, tackling him down. Akande’s massive body makes a thud when his back hits the mat, and Baptiste straddles him using all his body weight to keep him there, hands pushing his chest.

“Hey,” Akande protests.

A wolfish grin beams at him. “You said I should play dirty,” Baptiste teases, winking at him.

Akande gropes for his ass, hands moving up and down his thighs as a slow smile curls the corners of his mouth upward. “Lose the battle,” he says, lifting his head off the mat, his mouth searching for his lips, for more of his ragged breath, for the teasing to come back in the shape of more touching. Baptiste yields, leaning forward until their chests bump together. Akande lets his tongue out to trace his lower lip, breathing hotly into his mouth. “Win the war,” he retorts.

Akande flips them over, falling for his lips with a kiss all bite and tongue. His body pins Baptiste again, legs spread at both sides of his broad frame, his body fully pressed against him while his mouth explores, owns, and tastes the sweet victory that is to kiss Baptiste after wanting it night after day, after weeks. Akande hadn’t realized how much he wanted it until this precise instant when not a flimsy breeze could pass between them.

They both moan and grunt into the unrestrained mating of their mouths. This has nothing to do with wrestling or fighting. Has it ever? Akande settles comfortably between his legs, rocking into him, his hard bulge grinding against Baptiste’s straining cock. The lowered waistband of his sweats and underwear traps his length against his groin, the touch against Akande’s own garments uncomfortable and pleasurable at the same time.

“Fuck,” Baptiste mutters.

“Soon, pretty boy,” Akande promises.

But he’s not taking it, not anymore, not when his heart is at stake and this man drives him mad. “You intend to make a habit of this?” The words blurt out in a blur.

“I don’t make a habit of anything. It leads to weakness.” Akande backs away but his body keeps rutting against him even though it seems they’re having this conversation now. Better now than after the sex when things aren’t usually so dreamlike and reality hits like a hammer.

“Smart,” Baptiste says with a frown. What was he expecting? A declaration of mutual affection? He realizes their cocks hard and willing for a sweet touch is the only thing they have in common. He doesn’t mind; he shouldn’t.

Akande brackets his head with both forearms, thumbs tracing circles on his sweaty, blushed cheeks. He leans down and kisses him full on the lips. “But I want to make a habit of this, of you,” he corrects himself.

“What does that mean?” Baptiste murmurs, staring into two black pools that speak of lust, and want, desire and, maybe love?

“I want you in my bed whenever I want.” Akande never asks for things, he just wants, desires, takes and he wants him more than anything.

“What about what I want?” Baptiste is about to say _yes please, take me here, now, later, in your bed, whenever you want. You call, I’m there. Just let me feel you one more time until one of those is the last and you’re done._ He’s in deep shit, and he just outed himself.

“What is it that you want?” Akande groans, and that’s the best he can do to promise Baptiste he’ll do and accept whatever he wants to give.

Baptiste mumbles a curse at the many questions they shoot at each other, questions that probably have no answer. “This.” He tugs at Akande’s sweatpants and underwear, his other hand reaching for his cock. He wraps a tight fist around him and pulls, cupping the head, then down to his hilt and up again. “I want this.” _You, you, you._ Liar.

“Is that all?” Akande moans at the relentless stroking of his ungentle hand. “Just this?” He thrusts his cock into his hand, staring at him. Baptiste nods. He’s a liar, stupid, foolish liar who wants him and asks for his cock instead. Can he even aspire to have both?

Akande loses his last thread of self-control in Baptiste’s subtle rejection. He spits into his hand, swatting Baptiste’s away and squirming and freeing him until he has them both in a messy grip slicked with saliva, pre-cum, and sweat. If Baptiste wants sex, he’ll have more than he can handle for as long as he can give it. 

Akande strokes them both while he devours his mouth with unspoken need. They’re both so hard he knows how little they’re going to last. And he’s in a rush to feel the hot spurts of cum, to drink a muttered cry of pleasure directly from his mouth, to feel his whole body tensing up like a plank and then relaxing in waves of unleashed joy.

“I want you, big guy,” Baptiste mumbles almost inaudibly, gasping for air after a breathless, endless kiss. His stomach churns at the truthful confession. Akande hides a smile in the crook of his neck and bites him. “Mine to fuck,” he continues. The feeling of his soft, velvety cock is driving him mad with want. Akande wheezes against his skin, biting and kissing, and mumbling a myriad of yeses to whatever nonsense comes out of his lips. “Your cock’s mine, your hole’s mine.”

“Yes.”

“If you want me, you’re mine,” Baptiste grunts.

Overwhelmed by Baptiste’s bluff, Akande pumps their cocks faster, his hips moving on his own to add to the nigh unbearable pleasure he gets from this. He has to be lying or telling him what he wants to hear because it can’t be that easy. Want and conquer, with almost no fight. It never happens, not to him anyway. Baptiste’s body tenses, nails scraping his exposed back. Akande notes the hot gush of cum and the twitching of his cock into his grip, and his balls draw up tightly like clockwork.

His orgasm shoots through him at the same instant, and he keeps stroking them both. Their cocks softening together, their mingled lusts dripping all over his hand and Baptiste’s stomach. Akande takes a peek down, taking in the view of them well spent and empty. Pearlescent pools of their cum paint his stomach and he aches to lick him clean. If he wants him, he’s his. Or so he said.

In a declaration of ownership, Akande goes down on him, lapping and tasting the bitter, salty taste of them. “Fuck, you…” Baptiste mumbles, struggling to find the words under such a beautiful sight. Deep eyes stare back at him, his tongue swiping the ridges of his abdomen, collecting the proofs of their shared orgasm. It gives him goosebumps. “Come up here,” he says, and Akande crawls back up after one last luscious taste of him.

Baptiste pushes his tongue inside his mouth, savoring the aftermath of their encounter, sucking on his lips, on his tongue, could he even call that a kiss? He still notes Akande’s hot release against his softening cock and moans from sheer pleasure. If someone were to catch them red-handed, they’d had a hard time keeping their faces straight or covering up their tryst.

“That was…” Akande gasps, still not sure where they stand.

“Yeah,” Baptiste says in a breath. They’re panting; his eyes searching for him. “You missed this, huh?” The corner of his mouth pulls upward. He means the sex, but in truth, he wants to believe the man who claims to want him has missed him.

“I missed you.” After the statement and a soft peck on the lips, Akande stands, pulling his sweatpants up and stretching a hand at him.

Baptiste lies on the mat, unblinking, his sweats around his thighs. He’s not sure his legs function anymore, his heart skipped a beat at those words he wants to take to heart. Some part of him thought he could disguise his feelings with mere lust, but he meant every single time he said mine or want, and perhaps Akande did too. It sure took the edge off their minds.

Finally, he takes his hand and stands. Akande tugs his pants back up with a smile. That small, subtle curl of the lips he has right after sex. Sated, tamed, almost ready to go to sleep if they were in bed. Akande cleans them up with a gym towel and tosses his shirt at Baptiste.

“You don’t need to woo me, you know.” Baptiste wears his tank top, flashing him a smirk. “I’m into this.” He hooks a finger on Akande’s pants to make a point.

“I wasn’t.” Akande winds his arms around his waist, pulling him closer. “I’ve missed your ass,” he says, hands trailing down his backside for a squeeze. He needs to convince Baptise to come to his lodgings for a shower and… more, and he’s definitely not scaring him putting more on his plate than he can eat.

“No shit,” he quips, “you just came hard just by making out with me.” They chuckle.

Akande realizes he won’t let him in that easily, but he cannot deny himself of this, of him. No matter how it ends; if he gets tired in a week or a month or a year. Akande never belonged to anybody, but he belongs to him, and he so badly wants to own him in return. That far he can foresee, like the outcome of an unpredictable war where wants and needs lose their meaning.

“Come to my room with me,” Akande whispers. “We can take a shower there.”

Baptiste chuckles again, winding his arms around his neck and having to stand up on his tiptoes to speak against his mouth. “Okay, big guy,” he whispers, trapping his lips where the taste of them still lingers, reminding him of the moment of lust they left behind and welcoming a new one. “You’re tall. I never had to stand like this to kiss a man before.”

“And I’ve never wanted to kiss someone as much as I want to kiss you,” Akande says with a smirk. So much for not scaring him, but what if he slips through his fingers? What if he realizes he’s not worth the trouble? What if he can fuck him into loving him?

“What did I say about the wooing thing?” Baptiste clicks his tongue, but a withheld smile escapes to his lips, and he sinks into his arms, utterly defeated.


	7. Chapter 7

It hasn’t been that long since their first shower together, but something has changed, something feels different, good, _right_. Baptiste has no more brainpower to stop this, question what’s happening, or worry about tomorrow. He just feels. Akande’s comforting arms around him, the steamy water running down his body and sprinkling on his face, his hands fondling his chest, squeezing, teasing. And his mouth. Sinful, plump lips, peppering kisses on his neck as if he would never get tired of washing him with tender affections.

Baptiste surrenders, out of jokes, out of breath, overwhelmed by a man that seemed distant and threatening, unreachable despite what his heart wants. But Akande is sweet and gentle in his own way, and he feels safe in his arms like he hasn’t in years, or ever. He ignores the dangers of who he is, the risks, the flashing signs that warn him that there’s only pain at the end of the road.

He can’t bring himself to care anymore.

Turning into his arms, Baptiste takes his mouth to shut off his rambling thoughts. They have touched all over with the excuse of lathering gel and cleaning up the sticky mess they made before. But they lingered under the stream, promising each other more than they can fulfill. With lips, hands, and murmured words of love disguised with lust. It’s late, but he cares nothing of the hour; not when he has Akande for one night.

Wrapped in his muscled arms, Baptiste pays no heed to the worries that rule his life in favor of this. Talon, the clinic, Overwatch’s downfall, hopeful dreams being drained down the toilet one by one. His hands mimic Akande’s, fondling his butt cheeks, pushing him onward so their hard cocks rub against each other. Their shower has turned into foreplay. Baptiste smiles into the kiss, suckles at his lower lip and moans. He can do this, they can be now and un-be when he’s gone. He is a mastermind lying to himself.

Akande slides a finger between his cheeks and prods at his hole, and Baptiste does the same to him. Both swell with the need to be inside each other. They were hard and needy at the gym, sweaty and unable to keep their hands to themselves. Now they’re clean, naked, gliding against the other and committed to a deafening kiss. Deafening for their thoughts, their wants; quiet of doubts and what-not as desire takes over.

“We should move this to the bed before I fuck you here,” Akande grumbles, marking his words with an ungentle squeeze.

“Still not tired?” Baptiste teases.

“Not for what I have in mind.”

They towel dry between sidelong glances and silly jokes, discarding the towels on the bathroom floor before Baptiste gets on the bed, chased closely by Akande. The same tiny bed that once seemed terrifyingly intimate will condemn him to sleep cuddled in his arms. It’s like they’ve been doing it forever. Is Baptiste that touch starved? So in need of a warm bed? Or is he truly falling for him? The thought churns his stomach, and he rolls them over, taking his mouth while the answer to his question seeps out of his lips.

Baptiste moans into the kiss, dodging Akande’s attempts to lead the situation while he makes himself comfortable on top. “I said I’d have you on your back tonight,” he chides, their bodies pressed together from head to toe, his tongue tasting him, learning by heart how to make him grunt, or moan, deepening the kiss as his fingers skim through his scalp. Akande wears his hair even shorter than the last time, like a shadow framing his head.

“Fine,” he concedes. “But come up here. Let me taste you.”

Baptiste straightens, straddling his firm stomach. “You want this?” With a shit-eating grin, he strokes his length up and down, eyes fixed on him. His other hand glides over his chest to keep him down on the mattress.

“Come. Up. Here.” Akande’s growl would be terrifying if not for the sultry curl on the corner of his mouth.

His hands grope for his thighs while Baptiste crawls up his body and into his reach. He braces himself on the wall, his hand still working his cock in well-rehearsed movements under the attentive gaze of his lover.

“Now what, big guy?”

Akande lets his tongue out, lifting his head off the pillow to taste the clear droplet gathering at the tip. He hums as he tastes him, and with licks and kisses, he lures Baptiste even closer. “Open your mouth,” he says, eyes brimming with desire. With the help of his hand, he runs the tip of his cock across his lips and chin, smearing pre-cum, shuddering when his hot, wet tongue swipes long and slow on the underside of his dick. “Fuck, take it.”

Cupping the head with his mouth, Akande suckles, hollowing his cheeks and wishing he was in control to slide his cock down his throat in one smooth swallow. Baptiste moans, his hand snatching into a fist, the muscles on his legs trembling. He glances at Akande, twirling his tongue around his cock as he takes him out at a leisurely pace. “More,” he demands with greedy, dark eyes.

Baptiste slides his cock inside his mouth, in and out, hips swaying gently as he misses nothing of those lips tightening around his girth. He taps the back of his throat and pulls out, but Akande pursues his cock with a willing, starving mouth. His breath hitches in his chest, both hands spreading like fans on the wall before him as he fucks into the molten heat of that wet cave. His throat constricts around him when he goes too far, but Akande encourages him with a pair of big, warm hands cupping his buttocks and accompanying his movements.

Moans come out of his lips unannounced, his nipples hard, his mind lost in the raunchy scene. His climax builds up inside him, tightening his balls, his groin, his dick shooting a clear spurt directly into his throat. Baptiste wants to stop him, elongate the relentless ministrations of his mouth on him. His tongue swipes the underside, teases the crown of his cock and reminds him how much he enjoys sex with him. Another part of him wants to come already, to jerk off until Akande’s face is painted in his cum.

“Wait, wait,” Baptiste gasps in between laborious breaths. Akande sucks him hard while Baptiste withdraws his hips and denies him of his succulent treat. His cock bumps against his chin, glistening in his saliva, pre-cum dripping from the tip.

“Already?” Akande flashes him a wolfish grin. God, is he cute when he smiles like that, knowing he has made a sore mess of him with just a two-minutes blowjob.

“I had an idea.” Baptiste winks at him before he turns around, straddling him backward. Akande wraps both arms around his thighs to pull him closer, a growl rumbling in his chest at the sight of a pair of perfectly rounded butt cheeks. 

But down his body, Baptiste’s mouth waters at the sight of his hard length. He leans forward, licking him from the tip to his heavy balls, grasping the root with a hand to savor the salty tip with a flickering tongue. “Yes,” he moans, “that’s what I was talking about.”

Baptiste takes him in with the help of his hand. Akande is big enough to intimidate his rusty blowing skills, but he makes up for it with eagerness, basking in a mouth full of his uncut cock. His tongue toys with the skin at the tip, lips sucking as Akande did to him moments ago. Desperate, needy to taste him for the first time. He’s been dreaming of it since they parted. Baptiste gags and drags him out only to come back and try again. He has almost forgotten that Akande was sucking him before when he licks a sinful path across his rim, curling his stomach in pleasure.

He strokes him with his hand, taking him out to moan. “Fuck, big guy,” he gasps, hot breath puffing against his spit-licked dick. “More of that.” His knees spread wider, his spine arching. Akande bends the pillow underneath his head and sets comfortably there. He spreads his ass cheeks, and his tongue trails from his balls to his hole, darting out to prod and tease. Baptiste moans with a mouth full of his cock, bobbing his head at the same rhythm he jerks him off.

Akande smiles when he finds him soft enough to fuck him with his tongue, his cock leaking on his chest, his hips bucking up inadvertently as he follows his mouth. If Baptiste would let him, he would fuck his mouth deep and gently, balls pressed against his chin, eyes teary by the lack of air. At the thought, he flicks his tongue fast against his hole, just how he knows he likes it. He’s been dreaming to get ahold of that ass for far too long.

“Yes,” Baptiste moans. “How dare you be this good, I’m trying to suck you off.” He muffles his own feigned protests on his cock. Baptiste slides him in until he nuzzles at his balls and takes him out to gasp for air. Big, and long, and hard. His hand finds the base and he squeezes, feasting on his cock for dear life. The more Akande eats his ass, the hungrier he becomes. “Fingers,” he gasps, mouthing the side of Akande’s erection. “Prep me.”

Obedient as he’s never been before, Akande fumbles for the bottle of lube he conveniently hid under the pillow. A flick later, a lube-slicked finger joins his tongue. The hungry mouth down his body is driving him mad, licking, and lapping but stopping his thrusts. If he lets go, he’d come long and hard into his mouth, but his finger fucking his tight heat reminds him otherwise.

Akande mouths at his balls, sucking and taking one into his mouth while he adds a second finger. Baptiste seems delighted, legs quivering, lips tightening around his girth. Their nights on the phone are fun, but not nearly enough to tame the desire to see him again.

The second time he called horny and needy, he asked Baptiste to leave the phone someplace where he could watch his whole body. He asked him to get on his fours, and he did. Baptiste stretched himself with his fingers while Akande whispered dirty words into the little bud on his ear. His desperation to reach the right angle excited him, how he begged for his cock instead, his face buried in the mattress so he could use the other hand to stroke himself to his climax.

Akande could barely touch himself through it, mesmerized by the tantalizing view that had him on the verge of his climax with his hard dick in his fist. He promised he’d fuck him next time, that he would hammer his prostate with the tip of his girthy fingers. Baptiste came undone with his name on his lips, and his cock twitched and shoot a spurt of cum on his stomach before he could react to his own climax taking over.

This is so much more fun. Akande pushes the fingertips of his two digits down and rubs, putting pressure on that soft spot and making him choke a moan on his cock. A whole-body shudder courses through Baptiste who swallows around his cock, hips bucking back into his fingers after days and nights wanting nothing more than this in real life and not through an impersonal device.

Baptiste sinks back into him, allowing the subtle sway of Akande’s hips in and out of his mouth. His cock swells, his lips used and abused. His legs tremble with the urge of an impending orgasm, and he caves in, hand reaching down to touch himself. But Akande swats his hand away, his fingers withdraw, and his tongue goes back to his lubed hole. His hands spread him again, tongue lashing as a thumb breaches him almost effortlessly.

His cock leaks all over his chest, as he suckles and hums. If Akande is making him come like this, they’re both going down together. He grabs his cock and works him with his hand and his mouth, giving him no truce.

“Baptiste,” Akande gasps, thumb shoved to the second knuckle inside him, lips uselessly mumbling against a round butt cheek. “You’re going to make me come,” he rocks into his mouth, knowing he shouldn’t. “Oh, fuck.” His throat tightens around him, balls heavy and ready for a second round when he knows for sure he’s fully engulfed by his lover.

He bites his butt cheek, trying to ignore the impending orgasm. Not yet, not until he’s inside him. Akande groans when Baptiste listens to his pleas and takes him out with a wet noise and a deep gasp. He clenches his teeth even tighter. So close.

“Auch,” Baptiste chides, straightening and glancing back at him over his shoulder. “That’s gonna leave a mark.” He arches a questioning eyebrow at him, but the seriousness gets lots in his swollen, spit-licked lips and the sweet smirk that stretches them temptingly.

“I hope so,” Akande quips, giving soft pecks on the indentations of his teeth. His eyes roam the length of his back, a veil of perspiration coating his beautiful, dark skin. He withdraws his thumb and relishes in the almost inaudible gasp that parts his smirking lips. He’s falling so hard so fast it scares him.

Baptiste turns around, crawling down his body as he straddles him. “You like biting, big guy?” Akande’s hands grope for his cheeks, but he shimmies him off, reaching behind to grab his cock for a long stroke.

“I like biting you,” he growls, reaching for his thighs on a second attempt to touch him. He aches for it, the man who lusciously tempts him just by the way he answers the phone, with the endearment he never asked but swells his heart every single time.

Baptiste smiles, lifting his hips, his cock standing firmly for attention. He aligns the tip with his hole, Akande’s eyes widening at how he could buck his hips up and sheathe home. “Condom?” Baptiste teases him, his stomach curling nice and warm at how much he wants to take him just like this. Bare and messy.

“Yeah.” Akande blinks, fumbling for it while he wonders what would be to shoot his load deep inside his tight heat and watch his cum ooze out right after. How would he love to mark him that way.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Baptiste smirks, stealing the unwrapped condom from his doubtful fingers. He rolls it down on him, making a show of it and giving it a long stroke as his countenance twists in pleasure. “Have you missed my pretty ass?”

“You know I have.” Akande coats his cock in lube, fingers smearing the remnants on Baptiste’s stretched ass. “I’ve missed all of you,” he says, cleaning his hand on the sheets before he fondles his thighs as a silent plea. He wants in, and he wants it now.

A groan comes out of his lungs when Baptiste lifts his hips, the head breaching in, his hot channel tightening around him. He lowers slowly, bracing himself on his chest, and Akande rivets his gaze from his beautiful, round cock to his heaving chest. Baptiste is the most beautiful man that ever made it to his bed. He wants to live inside him and yet he cannot seem to stay there for more than two minutes without coming undone.

Baptiste lets the air out in short breaths, settling on his lap as he adjusts to the raging erection splitting him open. The burn is nothing compared to the overwhelming sensation of being full of him. His fingernails scrape thick muscles, eyes hidden behind hooded lids, lips parting as he pushes even further down as if he could get more.

He leans forward, tongue licking a wet spot off his chest. Akande attempts a shallow thrust, desperate, the new angle offering a bundle of sensations. For what he has in mind, Baptiste is glad it wasn’t leg day. He allows Akande to touch him, wrap arms around him, push into him with the balls of his feet against the mattress. All while Baptiste mouths at a hard nipple, twisting and sucking. He nibbles his way up to his collarbone and chin, smiling against Akande’s velvety lips.

Akande traps his mouth in a mad, wet kiss, stroking in and out of him and cursing the angle because he wants more. “You’re gorgeous. Drives me mad,” he breathes into his mouth, but before he can latch on those sweet lips and unleash the need to pound into him, Baptiste straightens, shoving his cock balls deep. A loud moan escapes them both.

“You would like to keep me in your bed every night,” Baptiste teases, lifting off the mattress until only the tip is inside him and then coming back to engulf him in a smooth glide down. “Ready for you to come and fuck me whenever you want,” he says.

“If I could,” Akande says with a ragged breath. His fingertips dig holes on his butt cheeks as he tries to buck his hips up to meet Baptiste’s gauged thrusts. “If you’d let me…”

“But you’d also leave.”

“The world stops for nobody.”

“Fuck me while you can, then.”

Baptiste ignores his inner tantrum, riding him faster, fucking himself with the thickest, longest cock he’s ever had. And loving it. He cannot lie to himself pretending he’d be okay being just that to him or to anybody, but right now, he’d say yes to everything coming out of that man’s mouth. He aches to please him, to make a mess of him, to fuck him until his legs don’t work and his brain stops thinking; until his heart stops beating at the rhythm of his will.

“Baptiste,” Akande moans, witness of how his lover demands ownership without knowing it, and he’s defeated without putting up a fight. That never happens. “I…” Baptiste sticks a thumb in his mouth as he rides him, and Akande sucks obediently, meeting the rocking of his hips with thrusts of his own. All he wants is to be there inside him for as long as he can hold on.

“By the way,” Baptiste gives him a sultry smile, “I would let you.” He pulls his finger out, circling Akande’s hard nip without ceasing his movements. His cock is begging for a soft touch, but he ignores the urge, knowing that will only shorten their encounter.

“Let me what?” Akande asks, his heart thumping, cock swelling at the sight of him so gorgeous and in control, at his cock dripping in his stomach at every shallow thrust.

“Fuck me bare,” Baptiste retorts, smile widening despite the soft whines and moans trying to escape him. Akande groans at his response, his hands gripping him bruisingly. “I’d let you fill me with your cum if that’s what you’re into.” He braces himself on his chest, anchoring his knees and bouncing faster on his cock. “Would you make a mess of me, big guy?”

“Yes.” Akande tries to stand and lead, but Baptiste pushes him back with both hands, hips fucking up and down relentlessly.

“Imagine to fuck me again and again until I am gaping and all there is inside me is you,” he whispers. He caves in, wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking himself.

“Baptiste,” Akande gasps and it sounds so much like begging his face heats with embarrassment. He pushes with his feet on the bed and plows into him wildly, head thrashing back on the pillow, nails digging into his flesh.

Baptiste leans forward, propelled by Akande’s hips slamming into him. He’s at the brink of orgasm by those raunchy promises. He hides his face in the crook of his neck, panting, jerking off at the same mad rhythm of their fucking. “I’d do the same to you in return,” he whispers low and sultry, topping his words with a soft bite on his earlobe.

Akande’s body tenses, muscles hardening by the exertions. He lands a mean bite on the crook of his neck, his movements frantic, his cock sinking balls-deep into his body for two mindblowing thrusts before he spills. Akande fills the condom as his orgasm takes over him, and halfway through notes Baptiste’s hole clenching around him and a hot gush painting his stomach in pearlescent stripes of his cum. 

He’s spent, shaky, trying to fuck him with his half-hard cock despite he shouldn’t. But in his mind, he’s bare and marking him. Baptiste falls boneless on top of him, puffing his warm breath against his ear. “Next time then?” Baptiste teases, earning a smack on a butt cheek.

Akande grabs the base of the condom and pulls out, disposing of it while Baptiste rolls to the side with a sigh. He comes back fast, letting him curl against his body, head primly leaned against his chest, legs tangled together. Neither of them minds the sticky mess Akande tried to clean with the sheets. “You’re quite the dirty talker,” he whispers, pressing a kiss on his temple, and Baptiste chuckles.

When their breaths come to normal and their hearts slow down, Baptiste folds an arm over his chest and leans his chin on it, drowning into his deep eyes. “I don’t think I’m ready,” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling upward.

“I was going to give you a few minutes to recover,” Akande says teasingly and Baptiste rolls his eyes.

“What does this mean?” He points a finger intermittently at them.

“Us?” Akande grins. Perhaps he misread Baptiste’s hesitance.

“Is there an us?”

“I want you. I already told you.”

“You want me _in your bed_ ,” Baptiste clarifies.

“You look damn good in my bed.” Akande strokes his cheek with his knuckles, lips stretching on a lazy smile. “I still want you.” His hands hug his muscled arms and move to his shoulders. “Do you want me?” A crease ties his brows together.

Baptiste snorts, crawling up until their lips brush gingerly, smoothing his worries away. “More than I’m ready to confess, big guy.” They kiss, as soft and tender as a gasp.

“Let’s just be like this,” Akande whispers against his mouth. “See each other when we can, call and, I don’t know.” He shrugs. He’s not used to wanting someone; it led to weakness, an unpredictable nuisance for his plans, but at this precise moment, Akande vows to keep Baptiste separated from his lifework.

“So…” Baptiste rolls off him, leaning on an elbow, and Akande does the same, facing him. He arches an eyebrow while the corner of his mouth pulls upward. The question may be too much, but now that they’re discussing what’s happening between them and he doubts he’ll gather the courage to do so in the near future, Baptiste can’t help the worlds blurting out of him. “What about other guys?”

A silence accompanies Akande’s stern expression, eyes coated by unsureness. “If that’s what you want,” he clears his throat, “you can see whoever you want, I mean… I travel a lot.”

“Not me,” Baptiste chuckles, nudging him with his fist. “I mean you.”

“I haven’t been with anyone since you.” Baptiste opens his mouth to downsize the conversation with another dose of humor, but Akande interrupts him. “And I’m not planning on it.” His arm threads around his waist, pulling him closer. Akande toys with the dimples of his hips, sending goosebumps all over his skin. It is as though their naked bodies knew better than themselves.

A sigh escapes him, head leaning on Akande’s forehead. “Shit just got complicated, huh?”

Akande grins. “I like complicated.”

“Why doesn’t that surprise me.”

“But I better not find any other guy in your bed,” he jokes, dropping kisses on his lips.

“Or else?”

“I’ll have to make them punch drunk.”

Baptiste buries his face on his chest to stifle a laugh. Part of him knows Akande’s joking, another one tells him he’s dead serious, and it’s terrifying and exciting, to be wanted like that. He settles there, cradled by a bunch of muscles, and Baptiste relaxes. It felt good to clear the air so he knows what to expect, and surprisingly, his heart is till unbroken. What they are or what they’ll be isn’t something they can talk through, but the prospect of fucking around whenever they can is enough to put his worries aside.

“Sleepy?” Akande asks.

“You wish,” he quips.

“We can make up for the past two weeks,” he says with a suggestive smile. “I have a list of things I want to scratch off with you.”

“Like a sex bucket list?” Baptiste teases, glancing up at him.

“Well, I want to do them more than once, with you.”

Baptiste crawls up, leaning on an elbow again, finger tracing lazy circles on Akande’s bare chest. “Like what?” A sheepish grin grows wide on his lips.

“I want to make you come untouched,” Akande says in a throaty whisper.

“I’d love to see you try.” Baptiste bites his lower lip before he leans for a brief kiss. He’s pretty damn sure of Akande’s gifted cock can stroke him in all the right places. “What else?”

“I want your tongue in my…” Akande licks his chin and up to his lips.

“Hm,” Baptiste moans, “I’m definitely doing that tonight.” Despite their best efforts to tame down their desire, Baptiste leans into him, leg sneaking between Akande’s thighs, his hand exploring down the small of his back. He parts his mouth and traps him into a breathless kiss that lasts enough to have them both hard and willing. He intends to bury his face in between his ass cheeks and then forget himself inside him.

“Hey, before I’m thoroughly fucked and I forget,” Baptiste teases, “wake me up before you go.”

Akande smiles, chuckling softly as if he were heady of their kisses. “Is that an invitation for morning sex?” He hides his face on the crook of his neck, feeling those hands claiming his skin and awakening his senses.

“I like your style, big guy.” Baptiste arches into his embrace, a hot breath puffing against his neck. “But don’t bite more than you can chew,” he teases before Akande’s set of teeth clench on a side of his neck, making him claw his nails on his back, and eliciting a sweet whine from his lips.


	8. Chapter 8

After Akande’s last visit, Baptiste and his team left for a few missions all over the globe. Things were going back to normal in Talon, and being busy distracted him when they couldn’t see each other. After that night, Baptiste thought things would get weird, but Akande keeps telling him he wants him, and the fear and anxiety that the statement aroused in him, give way to a warm feeling in his chest. He fell, and Akande caught him with open arms.

Although It was refreshing getting him out of his mind, Talon’s assignments aren’t getting any easier. His job consists of nothing but fighting for the benefit of others and not precisely the more vulnerable. Baptiste is weary, trapped and living a purposeless life eased only by the unexpected love that bloomed in the past months. But when he remembers Akande is the epitome of war, it almost makes everything even worse. From all the people he could have fallen in love with, why someone that will tie him to Talon?

The press keeps speculating about the Venice incident and Overwatch’s downfall now that Doomfist is old news and seems to be out of the scene. But he’s always busy, so something big must be taking form. What intrigues Baptiste is how the media tags Talon and Overwatch as mere terrorist groups disrupting the world’s peace with their scruffles. Is that all his childhood heroes are? He has no doubt of Talon’s obscure nature, but Overwatch’s situation is a mixture of politics, bad press, and lack of purpose after the omnic crisis.

Things in Rome’s headquarters were quieter, and after Talon reorganized his ranks, his team was assigned more and more missions. Baptiste is torn, sick to his stomach wondering what evil he’ll be accomplice next, but also relieved of the boring routine training and office work. Sadly, being gone so often means even if Akande can swing by for a quick visit, Baptiste is most likely on the other side of the world.

They’re playing it by ear, letting things happen. But they weren’t happening as often as they would like to. They call some nights, meet up at crazy hours, trying to match two tight schedules into one lost hour in whatever destination Baptiste is and Akande can afford to detour. It’s hard, but worth every kiss, every caress, every intimate moment between them.

It can’t be a relationship as far as Baptiste understands. How were they so naive to believe they could be more? That they could just be? They haven’t coincided in the same country for weeks. When they’re together the world seems to vanish into thin air, the only truth he knows their bodies, their skins, their out of sync breaths as they fuck. Akande makes him forget about Talon, Overwatch, the whole world for all he cares. Nothing else matters but the warmth of his body and the strength of his arms around him. And Baptiste basks in the sweet obliviousness that acts as a balm to his soul every single time. He suspects it has the same effect for Akande, but they never talk about it.

Goodbyes get bitter, phone calls sometimes never happen, and yet the moment they are at arm’s length they clash against each other with a thousand years of longing and desire. It’s stupid, but it makes him feel alive, and despite everything he thought at first, heartfeltly loved.

Baptiste and Mauga are back in Rome after a week in Makati, yet another mission that should have been on the level and got out of hand. It’s getting harder to ignore the cruel reality of what he has become, but as always, he washes away the blood of the mission and sheds a few tears that get mixed with the stream of the shower. One day he’ll dare to be who he wants to be instead of this, but not tonight. 

Sheer luck and a timely personnel relocation blessed them with a shared bunk with a private bathroom, and Baptiste ignored Mauga’s plans for celebration after a tough mission and slid into his lodgings alone. They’re drifting apart, the more he hates what they do, the more Mauga loves it.

Baptiste comes out of the small bathroom dripping wet and tired as hell. He slumps face-first on the bed, towel still around his waist, and turns the lights off. He should check his phone. In one last effort to get at least something from Akande and find a reason to smile, he realizes it’s dead and buries his face in the pillow with a grunt. Before he knows it, he’s sleeping like a log.

Hours later, the door of his room swooshes open as someone comes in. Probably Mauga. Baptiste shifts on the mattress, burying his face on the pillow, getting ready for the blinding lights when a warm body slides on top of his own. Akande. The musky scent of him invades him like a salty storm. For a moment, he believes his brain is betraying him, but then a hot searing mouth nibbles at his bare shoulder and the unmistakable frame of his lover brushes his bare skin.

“Wake up,” Akande whispers against the shell of his ear. 

Naughty hands pull at the towel, undoing the knot and revealing his naked body. Akande lies on top of him, straddling his legs and blessing him with a tender caress. His cotton shirt feels soft against his prickled skin, but it’s his warmth that curls his stomach. Akande trails an invisible road of kisses from one shoulder to another. He can feel his smile, his breath, the not-so-subtle bulge rubbing his backside.

“You’re back,” Baptiste croaks.

“For a few hours.”

“Hours?” Baptiste tries to roll over, but Akande grabs his wrists and pins him to the mattress.

“I had a debriefing here. Someone needs to take charge,” he explains although he doesn’t need to.

“And that’s you?” Grunting, he yields to the myriad of kisses prickling his skin and stiffening his cock.

“I’m leaving in four hours, but I needed to see you.”

“What did you have in mind, big guy?” A drowsy smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, his cock perking up at the mercy of Akande’s ministrations. A month without him is enough for Baptiste to yield without putting up a fight. He wants him, and he’ll take every single crumb Akande offers.

“Spending every single minute I can spare in your body,” he whispers low and raspy before he takes a bite on his shoulder. Baptiste stifles a moan, arching his spine to grind against him and finding him harder than before.

“When will I see you again?”

Silence; a pregnant pause full of careful kisses that hint the answer he’ll get. Akande sneaks a peck on the corner of his mouth and sighs. “I don’t know.” Baptiste sinks his face in the pillow to muffle his disappointment. Only four hours, still better than nothing. “The world never stops,” Akande whispers.

“And you want to conquer it on your own,” Baptiste mutters. “I haven’t heard from you in weeks.” His sore heart paints those words with a tinge of sadness. As if a call had tamed the urge to drown into his deep, chocolate eyes as they kiss.

“Days,” Akande quips, touching the ticklish spot on his ribs with light fingertips.

“Sixteen days,” he retorts, stifling the chuckle that wants to break free.

“And I’ve wanted you every single one of them,” Akande promises, hand sneaking underneath to touch his chest, lips closing around his earlobe. “I tried to call you.”

“I saw.” Baptiste pushes up into him, head turning aside to steal a kiss from his lips. “I was deployed in the Philippines.”

“I know… I check on you.” Akande smiles, his thumb tracing circles over a perked nipple, his bulge brushing against his bare ass. He should have taken his clothes off before making it to the bed. “If we don’t see each other it’s not because I haven’t tried.” A greedy hand moves to his hip to keep him steady, but Baptiste keeps tempting him, wondering how long will Akande last without drowning himself in him.

“You can’t come here whenever you need a fuck,” he jokes. That’s exactly what they want; what they need to forget the past shitty weeks apart.

“Only when I need a good fuck,” Akande whispers.

“Not helping your case here.”

“I’ve been dreaming about you,” he says, nuzzling at his neck. “I need you, your skin.” Akande swipes his tongue on a soft spot at the nape of his neck. “Your touch, your body.” He swivels his hips forward, his cock straining in his fatigues. “And I’ve locked us here…” Open-mouthed kisses paint his back and shoulders, his whole body answering to Akande’s call like an obedient lover. “Please,” he hums.

The man that asks for nothing and takes what he wants is asking for him, for permission to love him, to wash him with affection, and Baptiste soaks it like a sponge. He cannot deny him even if he tried, he wants him so badly it hurts when they’re apart. The world loses its meaning in his presence, his heart squeezing in a weeping ball when he’s away. How deep has he fallen into this pit? How long will they last before someone gets hurt?

“Please,” Akande mumbles, dragging his lips and hands all over the bare skin at his reach. “Let me make up for my absence, pretty boy.”

“That’s better,” he hums, a teasing smile stretching on his lips. “You may continue.”

“What if we escape for a couple of days just you and me?”

“Next time you’re back?”

“I’ll text you when and we’ll meet there,” Akande promises. “We’ll lock ourselves in a room and forget about everything except this.” A soft bite lands on his back full of promises and hopes.

“Are you going to pamper me, big guy?”

The idea of having time to figure out what they are without an imminent goodbye hanging over their heads brightens his mood. Baptiste wishes they were already there. A throaty chuckle rumbles behind him when Akande follows the sinuous curve of his spine, crawling down his body until the tip of his tongue dips on the dimples sweetly sunk on his skin.

“Don’t I always?” Akande kisses down the lush curve of his backside, his hands massaging round cheeks, spreading them slightly. A growl rumbles in his chest at the sight, and he darts his tongue out to lick his rim and wet him in his saliva. 

“That’s a good start,” he moans, hands wringing the sheets, butt lifting up against his hot mouth.

“I haven’t even started yet,” Akande breathes out the words against his skin, sending a shiver through his spine.

Lashing his tongue out again, he eats him up while his hands fondle his ass cheeks. His own dick twitches in the snug trap of his fatigues, needing a soft touch around. But Akande is too busy making Baptiste lose his mind he doesn’t even care. Baptiste bucks up against his mouth, chasing the feeling of his wild, wet tongue. With the help of a spit-licked finger, Akande works his hole pliant enough to slide in and out of him. He bites his ass to distract him, nibbles and kisses him while he thrust his finger until he can fuck him with his tongue and Baptiste cries out his name.

“Up to your knees,” he groans, smacking his butt.

Baptiste props himself up so fast it makes Akande chuckle, knees nicely spread as asked. He bites back a shameful moan when Akande’s tongue comes back. Deep inside, out to trace circles around his needy hole only to breach him again a moment later. He’s so good at this Baptiste almost begs him to rim him every time before they fuck, and Akande indulges him way too often.

In the new position, Akande cradles his balls in his palm, weighing them as he tastes every single whine and moan Baptiste muffles against the pillow. His hole pulses at every flick of his tongue, at every deep plunge that promises him endless pleasures but leaves him wanting more.

“Big guy,” Baptiste cries out, desperate for more inside him even if they’re just a pair of fingers and not his wonderful, thick cock.

Akande cups the head of his cock into his hand, gathering the pre-cum leaking of out him, then moving to wrap around his girth. He strokes him, and it isn’t gentle or tamed, he’s ready to see Baptiste come undone by the teasing of his tongue.

“Fuck,” Baptiste groans. “Keep going.” His tongue fucks him deliciously fast, saliva dripping down his balls, his cock pulsing in a tight fist that strokes him exactly how he wants. “I’m almost there,” he gasps, his hips swaying back into a stiff tongue and onward into a hot, wet fist.

Akande complies, his breathing coming out in low grunts, lips swollen, his untiring tongue giving Baptiste exactly what he needs to steer him to an impending climax. He fucks him at the rhythm of his sped-up heart like he has wanted to do every night they spent apart.

“I… Akande.” Baptiste’s climax overrides him in the blink of an eye. He hides a face flushed and hot against the pillow, muffling his cries, pretending he isn’t repeating his name like a mantra. “Akande.” Walls are thin, and anyone passing by the hall could guess what’s going on inside. Akande eats ass like a God and he’ll never admit it out loud, the guy strokes his ego enough on his own.

His hole pulses with his release, cock jerking into his hand as it shoots his orgasm on the towel underneath. Akande strokes him through, elongating his pleasure with swipes of his tongue across his cleft. How he’d wish to be there inside him, trapped in his tight heat, milked dry by his climax. He doesn’t stop until Baptiste is soft and falls boneless on top of his own sticky mess. His lips twitch into a grin before the urge to let go overwhelms him.

Akande straightens, fumbling open his fatigues. His hard, throbbing cock is about to explode in his hand. At the first stroke his balls draw up tightly and his breath hitches in his chest. He’s a goner, admiring the sight of his spent lover sprawled beneath him. He reaches with his hand to squeeze his butt cheek, thumb teasing his spit-licked ass. He wants in there so much after weeks of yearning his body engulfing him in the midst of pleasure.

Jerking off over the phone does the trick, but he wants the connection, to have his pleasure at his fingertips, to feel his body against his own. The way he smiles right after he comes, sated and full of joy while his orgasm still shakes him, the sweetness in his gaze, the sound of his ragged breath. No one looks at him like Baptiste does, so full of need, and desire, as if he knew him, as if he loved him.

Akande strokes his cock up and down, gaze lost on miles of exposed skin, toned curves and perfectly formed muscles. Baptiste glances back at him with a smirk so sexy it strikes through his heart, meeting his lustful eyes. “Want me to suck your _little problem_ away?”

“I won’t last,” Akande mutters, bracing himself single-handedly on the bed, lips biting a mouthful of his side as if devouring him would tame the climax building in his groin.

Baptiste lifts his lower body up by standing on one knee. He’s so smug when he’s in the haze of the afterglow, teasing Akande to no end and knowing one stroke of his hand, one lick of his tongue, one thrust inside him would be enough to send him screaming his name. “Slide home and fill me up, big guy.” He winks mischievously.

“Fuck, Baptiste,” Akande groans.

One timely squeeze along with that shameless offering he would have taken if he could, are enough. Akande spills all over his lower back, hot gushes of cum dripping down the dimples of his back and sliding between his butt cheeks. He strokes himself soft until the last drop of his load is on him, then his fingers rub his mess all over his skin, sliding to stroke his hole and push a sticky finger inside him.

“Filthy man,” Baptiste complains with a chuckle. He’s weary and he’d still take a good pounding if Akande is the one delivering it. “Your dick next?” he teases.

Akande leans forward, biting softly his earlobe. “If only you knew the things I want to do to you that require more than four hours.” They smile, both counting on that promised weekend just for the two of them. No more small beds, shower fucks, alarms going off disturbing a short nap before any of them have to go.

Baptiste rolls on his back, wrapping arms and legs around Akande to push him against him. Their soft cocks touch and recognize each other, their mouths clashing in a deep, wet kiss that speaks volumes of what they want: each other. Baptiste runs both hands up to his nape and his head. “Hey,” he says, pulling away with a frown, trying to discern him in the slight darkness of the room. “You shaved your head. So handsome.” Fingertips run through the smooth crown of his head, lips stretching on a smile.

“Do you like it?”

“Looks great on you,” Baptiste says. It makes him look a bit older and perilous, but it fits him. For a moment, he’s quietly inspecting his new looks while Akande smiles, pleased and still fully dressed against his naked body. “Wanna take a shower, big guy? You kind of made a mess of me.” Akande chuckles, burying his face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the musky scent of sex and the spicy notes of his soap on him. He’s gone as far as to steal a bottle from Baptiste just so he can sleep pretending he’s there.

“Shower’s fine, I stink.” Just now he realizes about the ten hours flight here and that he didn’t even bother carrying his belongings, they’re waiting for him in the same aircraft that will take him to Numbani later today.

Baptiste fills his nostrils with his scent. Long day, lack of sleep, the man that owns his heart and he loves sweating and fucking him senseless. “You smell good enough to lick,” he whispers. Akande cups his face with both hands, lips parting to confess yet again how much he misses him, needs him, wants him for more than just this. How long can he fool himself? How long will Baptiste take him?

“Just a shower, pretty boy?” Akande says instead.

“I can stretch you nice and slow,” Baptiste promises, “then fuck you hard until you have to leave…” Whenever he feels any of them wants to drop the I love you bomb, Baptiste expresses his desire to fuck him out of his heart -as if he could-. “Will you get on your knees for me, big guy?”

“You know I will,” Akande grins. “Just say the word.”

“Now?” His smile makes his stomach flip.

“Please,” he retorts. “But first a shower.”

Akande peels himself off his body with a grunt, then grabs his arm and drags him up. His hands thread around his waist and his lips brush gingerly over Baptiste’s. “I’ve missed you,” he breathes out.

“Have you?” Baptiste arches an eyebrow, arms winding over his broad shoulders. His heart thumps in his chest at the unexpected reunion that will last a breath and will feed them for who knows how long.

“I,” Akande swallows, pushing him onward, “I love being with you.” He hates how sappy he tuns in his presence, but his tongue tingles with the need to confess how much he means to him. He will keep Baptiste hidden from everyone else, pretend he doesn’t care, ignore the aching need to see him more often when it’s not safe, but he can blurt it out at any minute in his presence.

“C’mon,” Baptiste says shyly, standing on his tiptoes to press a kiss on the crook of his neck. “I gotta get you well exhausted so you can sleep during your flight.” He squirms out of his hold, but Akande grabs his wrist and squeezes anxiously as if the lack of an answer were shrinking his heart.

“I mean it.”

Baptiste smiles, defeated, his heart melting under those deep eyes that one moment pierce through his soul and others turn foggy and doubtful. “I know. I’ve missed you too.” He pulls at his hand, bringing him closer. “Let me show you how much I love being with you…”


	9. Chapter 9

The new year is around the corner and Baptiste is ready to leave the year 2069 behind. Besides Akande, it wasn’t a great year, and despite the lighthearted mood that always surrounds him, Talon isn’t where he wants to be and yet his far-fetched plans to escape the organization are the last thing in his mind. Because everything is about _him_.

As promised, Akande cleared up his schedule and Baptiste’s for a few days. After visiting Roseline, he got on a plane to meet him. When he’s tired of waiting for a late-night call and his heart shrinks with unrequited feelings, the thought of breaking things between them pops on his mind. But it goes away as soon as emotion takes over reason. He cannot. Leaving Talon means leaving Akande, and although he wants more, he settled for a few moments of joy with him while overlooking Talon’s actions. His job is convenient and also the main source of income for the clinic. He couldn’t maintain it otherwise.

Paris is different from what he remembered. Brighter, colder, streets crammed with people and the remnants of Christmas decorations that will welcome the new year the following day. A crippling fear crawls up his spine unannounced. What if Akande isn’t there yet? Spending days alone in the city of love sounds awfully depressing. But he knows Akande’s plans sometimes can’t be delayed or put off for too long. The fear of being the first thing and the last meet at the same tail end.

The press is still busy speculating about an Overwatch agent assassinated by the hands of Talon. It hurts to see the heroes he worshiped fall, disgraced after the service they provided to the world. But nobody needs Overwatch nowadays, or so they believe.

Baptiste wasn’t idly waiting for Akande, his job keeps him busy enough, but he rode the rush of excitement about this trip for the past week. The flight wasn’t short but it was pleasant enough that he slept soundly all the way here. He sent him a quick message after he landed, but it’s not until Baptiste is checking in on the hotel that his phone buzzes in his pocket.

With a travel bag on his shoulder, and fidgeting with the room key card, he thanks the receptionist and heads toward the elevator. The luxury suite on the last floor. Baptiste snorts, wondering if it’s wise to splurge like this. No one knows about their tryst -except Sombra, and maybe Mauga- and they want to keep it this way. It seems vital for Akande to preserve some kind of private life from Talon, the world, and the press. He knows there’s more behind that decision, and he respects it. Akande never mentioned it, but he has enemies all over the globe and he is adamant about protecting Baptiste from the perils that endanger his life.

Baptiste takes the phone out of his pocket and checks his messages with a stomach full of butterflies and impatience. _Are you already here?_ And he’s not the only impatient one. _I’m on my way. Elevator_. He taps single-handedly. A dopey grin stretches on his lips, and as always happens when they’re almost together, everything becomes background noise. He’s so used to it, his presence acting like a drug, fast and steady, numbing and overwhelming at the same time. He’s in love, and worse, falls even deeper every time their lips touch.

After a few seconds, Akande sends him a picture and blood rushes through his face. “Fuck me,” Baptiste curses. Akande’s chest greets him from the screen, slicked fingers brushing a hard nipple, a glimpse of a beaming, predatory smile on a corner of the device. So damn sexy his cock stiffens in a second. “I’m so not deleting this,” he mumbles before he scrapes his lower lip with his teeth.

Only when the elevator chimes he rushes out, suddenly in a hurry to reach their room and jump that sexy god of a man for all he’s worth. After three attempts, he opens the heavy door and steps inside the humongous suite. A short hall leads to a small living room excessively decorated. Baptiste tosses the bag on a cream-colored couch and turns on his heels. That’s when his heart skips a beat and the next hundred.

Akande lies sprawled on the bed, leaning against the cushioned headboard, and fully naked just for him. A dim light reflects on the ridges of his muscles, the windows closed, forbidding the last light of the day from getting inside. Music plays in the background. The kind of music he cares nothing about but Akande loves listening to. So every hotel room feels somehow familiar, or so he told him once.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Akande drawls, giving a long stroke to the hard cock standing firmly in his hand.

Baptiste realizes he’s motionless and clears his throat, a sly smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He ambles his way toward him, getting rid of his coat, the scarf, and the jumper underneath. Paris isn’t so cold anymore.

“Not idly, I see,” Baptiste arches an eyebrow, not minding the mess he’s making of Akande’s space although he knows the man always folds his clothes and tidies after him when they spend more than one day together. “You’ve started without me.” Akande’s sheepish smile swells his heart. The man is beautiful all over, his glorious, ebony body exuding lust and demanding eager hands all over. Baptiste intends to volunteer and fight whoever touches him for he owns him. Since the day they met, until the day they become strangers.

Baptiste toes his shoes off on his way there, sparing a quick peek to the ensuite bathroom that looks as big as their bedroom. He strips his jeans next and lurches forward, crawling up Akande’s impressive body, lips trailing up his thigh. He nuzzles at his groin, burying his nose on the trimmed hairs. His scent invades him like a balm, his skin tingling for more.

Akande cups his face with both hands, lips parting in a smile. “Come up here, babe.”

Baptiste crawls over his exposed, warm body, their lips brushing gingerly before they yield to a kiss that sounds like a sob and a hopeful sigh of relief. He’d recognized them in his sleep, full and wishful, pressing the kisses he always dreamed of.

Akande sneaks both hands underneath his shirt and rolls it over his head, stripping him of the garment. He touches his chest, curly hair tickling in between his fingers, their mouths devouring each other with undisclosed familiarity.

“I’m ready for you,” Akande breathes into his mouth.

“I wonder why you never allow me the pleasure to prep you,” Baptiste quips.

“And I wonder why aren’t you already inside me, pretty boy,” Akande retorts. He huddles both legs against his chest in an inviting gesture.

Baptiste slides a hand between his cheeks, ignoring Akande’s leaking cock to nestle his heavy balls into his palm. Fingertips sneak below, teasing the lube-slicked skin until he finds his hole and he snugs two fingers inside him. He groans, feeling the welcoming heat of his body. “I’m going to finger you anyway,” he promises, thrusting in and out his stretched ass. Baptiste takes his mouth again, nibbling at his lower lip, his cock swelling in the trap of his boxer briefs.

“Fuck me,” Akande moans low and raspy, and Baptiste curls his fingers upward, searching until he finds and his lover trembles. “I want you,” he gasps, hips swaying to get more of those naughty fingers fucking him too gently for what he needs.

It’s not that Akande doesn’t like when Baptiste stretches him with his fingers or his mouth, but that he loves the anticipation; holding back, edging himself until he’s bursting from pleasure and Baptiste drills him to the mattress. Akande likes to be ready for him, to do as he pleases with his body, yielding to his sweet, smokey demands like he always does. Baptiste grows wild and impatient when Akande demands this from him. It all adds to the hour he’s been showering, stroking himself, shoving finger after finger at the slowest pace whilst thinking about him.

After a smoldering kiss, Baptiste withdraws his fingers and lifts off his body. “If you’ve waited that long already…” A teasing smile grows slyly on his lips as he gets off the bed. Baptiste shimmies out of his boxers and grabs his half-hard length. “Do I get a welcome blowjob?” He winks as Akande chuckles at his request.

“You’re such a tease,” Akande says, motioning between the bed and Baptiste’s thighs. He kneels on the floor, glancing up at that smirk that would make him do anything. “I’ll have my way with you later,” he promises.

“I’m counting on it, big guy.” His words die on a moan when Akande’s starving mouth wraps around the crown of his dick and he slowly works his way down his shaft. Baptiste thrashes his head back, hands cradling Akande’s head. His mouth suckles his cock on his way out, lips tightly wrapped around his girth, his hands cupping his butt cheeks in a forceful squeeze. It is mind-blowing the way he acts like a dutiful lover, so different from what he thought he’d be when they met: an unruly prick.

Baptiste stares down at him, eyes hidden behind hooded lids, lips plush with lust, his cock throbbing under the ministrations of his swiping tongue. “You’re so good with your mouth,” he rambles as praise.

Akande takes him out with wet, raunchy noises. He licks his way down his balls, sucking one into his mouth while his hand pumps up and down his gorgeous shaft. “So good,” Baptiste whines, his toes curling on the soft carpet underneath his feet. He steadies himself on his broad shoulder, his other hand cupping gently his face. What a beautiful man willing to please him, always looking out for him, wanting him, making sense of a crazy world and making the most of the time they spend together.

“Fuck my mouth,” Akande asks, eyes brimming with lust as he presses a kiss on the tip.

“Uh-huh.” Baptiste gives him a jerky nod, brain shutting down while Akande swallows his dick deep down his throat. The wet cave of his mouth ripples around him and Baptiste gasps, his hand moving to the back of his neck for a gentle squeeze. He pulls halfway out and comes back in a seamless glide. Since their first time in the showers to this day, Baptiste still finds himself captivated by Akande. The sex between them is out of this world no matter what they’re doing.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget about everything but me,” Baptiste says in a raspy whisper, and a pair of dark voids flick upward to meet his gaze.

Akande tightens his lips around his cock, his throat constricting around him whenever he bottoms out and he gags. The air he gets from his nostrils isn’t nearly enough, his moans muffled on sucking noises. He doesn’t even dare to touch himself because he would get off by sucking him alone, and he really needs that precious, gorgeous dick up his ass before he comes hard and long.

“Get on the bed,” Baptiste says a little breathless, taking his cock by the hilt and smearing spit and pre-cum over Akande’s smiling lips.

After one last swipe of his tongue and a satisfying hum, Akande turns around and settles on his hands and knees on the mattress. Baptiste scoots closer until his knees bump onto the bed, pulling him closer by the hips. “Is this what you want?” He aligns his cock with his slicked hole, prodding and teasing.

“Yes,” Akande croaks, backside lifting in the air, his chest sinking into the mattress, his whole body tensing with impatience.

Baptiste chuckles softly as he drizzles more lube on his cock. He grabs both his cheeks and spreads him, and in his next breath, he swivels his hips forward and enters him in a delicious, tight stroke that sends him to heaven and back until he’s balls-deep inside the man he loves.

It’s getting easier to confess to himself his true feelings, even sometimes they blurt it out right before they fall asleep or after a mind-blowing orgasm; just in that weakened moment when it seems right and they’re too tired to fight it, perhaps too drowsy to realize. They know, they ache to say it out loud, and yet they understand they cannot aspire to live a normal life together. Ever.

Feet anchored on the carpet and hands gripping firmly his hips, Baptiste pulls all the way out and comes back in a ruthless onslaught. Akande moans, sliding forward and wrinkling the pristine sheets that won’t survive a weekend of them fucking like rabbits. His hole squeezes him at every thrust, and Baptiste sneaks a hand underneath to stroke him. His cock is so hard and ready to shoot he may have underestimated Akande’s impatience.

“I got you, big guy,” he gasps in laborious breaths without ceasing his relentless pounding.

He strokes him at the rhythm of his trusts, feeling his hot channel pulsing around him, his eyes lost on miles of ebony skin that he’d love to lick clean of sweat and cum. “Come for me now, just let go,” he mumbles, fingertips digging holes on his ass cheek, his other hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

Akande whines an unintelligible protest, knees buckling inadvertently, his breath puffing against slightly damp sheets. He’s at the brink of orgasm, torn between letting go and holding back. But Baptiste gives him no choice, encourages him with reassuring whispers and praises, his hand fondling his side, the other jerking him off as fast as his cock plunges deep inside him, making him shudder violently whenever it rubs against his prostate. He arches into him, searching for that perfect angle in which Baptiste pistons hard and untamed against that sweet spot.

“I got you. I got you,” he promises, a veil of perspiration forming on his skin. “You look so beautiful taking my cock,” he says, his thumb teasing where they are joined, then trailing up his tailbone to feel the sexy curve of his spine. His skin exudes heat, sex, oversensitive and responsive to his caresses, his words, flushed by their fucking.

“Baptiste,” Akande grunts, his groin tightening. “Fuck.”

“C’mon,” he encourages, getting ahold of his side again. He plows him from behind in shallow, gauged slams, their bodies slapping together, his hand fisting his twitching cock. “I love when you cum saying my name,” he teases with a half-smile right before feeling the nigh unbearable clenching of his hole around his dick.

“B-Baptiste.” Akande tenses, hands balling into fists as he ruins the sheets while his orgasm shakes him from head to toe. The anxiety of the past weeks vanish, the dread of missing him, his body, his touch, that smirk that is unnerving as well as delicious to kiss away. Akande rides his orgasm with Baptiste’s cock deep inside him, his cock leaking a white trail as it softens in his tender grip.

“You’re so hot,” Baptiste moans, unmoving as he feels the aftershocks of his climax through his fluttering hole.

After a few moments basking in the soft gasps that leave him as he catches his breath, Baptiste pulls out, leaning down to kiss him on the side. He grabs himself in hand, his cock hot and pulsing. He’s ready to jerk off and mark the man that rules his heart when Akande glances at him over his shoulder with a crease between his eyebrows. “No, wait,” he breathes out. “Come inside me.” Baptiste smiles. “I need you inside me.”

Need. Want. Love. Words Akande never thought would come out of his lips or even nestle in his heart. Yet they all have when it comes to Baptiste. He gets on the bed behind him, nudging his knees wide open. “Can you take it, big guy?” His hands knead his backside, his firm cock slamming home with a thrust that makes Akande shudder.

“Yes,” he groans, ignoring the subtle burn, the overstimulation that tickles in his groin.

“I love fucking you like this.” Baptiste braces himself on the mattress with both hands at either side of Akande’s broad frame. His knees inside Akande’s thick thighs as he graces them both with a gauged onslaught.

While his body speeds up his pace again, he leans forward and mouths at his neck before he bites his earlobe. He’s losing it by the minute, hips moving so fast he doesn’t know anymore if he’s rutting against him or fucking him. His climax builds up so fast it scares him, the reasons the desire to own him, to demonstrate Akande he’s his, now and ever, in a bed with tumbled sheets and out.

Akande relishes in the warmth of his sweaty chest against his back, on the overwhelming heat that invades his body when lovers are always cold after the deed. Baptiste wouldn’t let him down, never. “I love when you fuck me like this,” he mumbles, his cock leaking a white spurt every time Baptiste’s cock brushes past his prostate.

The discomfort fades in a new wave of pleasure, in an unsuccessful attempt to get fully hard again. Only this man can draw out of him orgasm after orgasm. His laborious breaths wheeze against his ear, his hips smacking his cheeks at every deep thrust. His cock strokes in and out of him like in his most shameful dreams.

“Baptiste,” he whispers, his name escaping his lips at every chance.

“Show me how much you want it.” Baptiste swipes his tongue on the shell of his ear before he straightens, pressing a hand on his neck and pushing him down into the mattress. His thrusts become frantic and desperate, his dick aching to shoot his load. Akande’s cock stiffens so fast he feels dizzy.

Akande whines, arching his ass into the air and taking. Just taking him. Gasps mixed with moans and pleas for more are the only thing that leaves his mouth. “You’re hard again?”

“Don’t stop,” he commands in an unquestionable growl. He’s hard enough to chase his pleasure to completion, horny enough to surrender to Baptiste and keep taking his cock for as long as he deems fit.

“Touch yourself,” Baptiste says, his wavering voice betraying how on edge he is. “I want you coming as I fill you up.”

His hand moves from the bed to his side, aiming his thrusts deliciously right. His hot channel hugs him like a dream, and his balls draw up tightly aching to shoot his release. Akande reaches for his cock, and the second his warm, sweaty hand squeezes his half-hard dick and Baptiste slams twice against his prostate, he comes with a muttered cry.

Baptiste pounds into him with wild abandon, smiling, his thumb stroking the twitching muscles of his neck, his cock slamming home twice before he falls boneless on top of his lover, his orgasm taking over as he spills thoroughly inside him. He feels so good, so damn good he’d die a happy man at this precise moment and regret nothing. Nothing at all.

“That was something else,” Baptiste gasps, pulling out gently, his softened cock followed by a white trail. He’ll never get used to the sight of him like this; gets to him every time.

Akande rolls onto his back with a grunt, gazing at his lover with a sappy smile. “You deliver, pretty boy.” Baptiste chuckles as he settles beside him, head against his muscled chest. It is a well-rehearsed motion after so many months together. They were made to fit like this, he has come to believe.

Akande presses a kiss on his forehead, wrapping an arm around his shoulders while Baptiste tangles their legs. “You know, I…”

“Don’t say it,” Baptiste interrupts, a strange uneasiness churning his stomach. “Don’t make it real.” He squeezes himself harder against his side.

“It is real whether II say it or not,” Akande whispers with a weary smile.

“I know.” Baptiste props up one elbow, glancing at Akande’s relaxed stance and mimicking his smile. “I love you, big guy.”

“I love you more.” He cups his face, lifts himself up enough to press their foreheads together and then their smiles into a sugar-coated kiss. “But it’s okay if you don’t want me like that.”

Baptiste breaks their embrace with a hearty chuckle, nudging his jaw with a fake punch. “You’re all I want and you don’t get it,” he teases. “I’d run away with you. I care nothing about the world when you’re holding me.”

Akande winds both arms around him, rolling them side to side. “I wish we could afford to be so naive.”

“Me too,” Baptiste says, a hint of sadness in his voice. Akande would never take him seriously on this, he would never renounce to the kind of life he has built. It means so much to him. “But I had you on your knees in less than a minute,” he jokes, arching an eyebrow at him. “Did I tame Doomfist?” 

The downhearted atmosphere dies down upon listening to Akande’s throaty laugh. He grabs Baptiste by the waist and settles him on his lap until he’s straddling his stomach, big hands fondling up and down his thighs. “You wish,” he warns, making clear he was exactly where he wanted to be: at his mercy. “Wanna take a shower now?”

“I wanna do you again,” Baptiste says, biting his lower lip, hands roaming the expanse of his exposed chest.

“Anything you want, but I made reservations for dinner.” Upon listening to those words, Baptiste smirks. “What?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles, “someone would say besides loving me, you like me.”

“More than like you, pretty boy.” They kiss before they pour their hearts out again. “And I’ve heard they have the best desserts.”

“Oh, you’re going to feed my sweet tooth?” Baptiste swipes his tongue across his lower lip as if anticipating the sweets he'll have.

“After a year we deserve a proper date, don’t you think?”

“Has it been a year already?” Baptiste asks incredulously.

“Almost, but close,” Akande says cupping a side of Baptiste’s face with his palm. “I hope it’s the first of many more.”

“Akande…” Baptiste sighs. Fooling themselves now will only make it harder when they need to break this off. Something will come up, time, absence, Akande’s ambitions, Baptiste’s long-forgotten dreams to change his life for the better.

“You’re mine,” Akande says, straightening and trapping his lips in an inescapable kiss. “All mine.”

Baptiste smiles, his doubts fading after such a statement. The man is right, and no matter how long this lasts, it’s real, and the present belongs to them. He interrupts Akande’s relentless kisses on his lips and jaw. “Only if you buy me macarons,” he says, dead serious.

A sheepish smile stretches on Akande’s lips. He cocks his head to the bedside table, beckoning Baptiste to take a peek. A mint green cardboard box with a white ribbon rests primly near the lamp. “You didn’t,” he dares, turning his gaze to Akande.

“Try me.”

Baptiste hops off his body, tugging at the useless lace and finding a dozen of pastel-colored treats inside. He realizes he’s smiling dopey at the gesture. No one has ever bought him sweets and spoiled him as Akande always does. It is like he tries to compensate for the time they spend apart; as if a fancy hotel room and this would make up for his absence. It doesn’t, but his presence does, that he tries does. And Baptiste’s heart melts because he’s in love and unafraid. He shoves one into his mouth to prevent the tooth-rotting endearments that want to come out of him.

“Just for this I’m gonna suck you off in the shower,” he mumbles with a mouth full of sweet macarons, and Akande laughs.


	10. Chapter 10

The time they had dinner at Les Deux Escargots was the only time they left the hotel suite for the next two days. They refused to abandon their bed or their bodies. The new year welcomed them face to face, the background noise of cheerful celebrations on the streets deafening before the foolish promises of love they whispered against the other’s mouth. Fireworks painted the sky with hope and caught them kissing, biting, bodies sweaty and sore, their hearts out, demanding release. They need each other; they ache to make up for the lost time, pretending the clock isn’t moving faster than they realize.

It’s like a fate’s joke when they think about it; how they can fit so many moments of cheerful obliviousness into a few days and then survive on them for weeks on end when they’re apart. They started 2070 together, hoping to end the year the same way.

After two days of indulging, there’s no way to ignore they enjoy more than the rampant sex. Akande loves when Baptiste hums and sings incoherent tunes out of the blue and also is equally exasperated by it. Their endless conversations in bed, the bad jokes, and Baptiste’s awful pick-up lines; the silence late at night before they fall asleep curled around each other. Everything is like heaven but real; like a dream he never wants to wake up from.

Once relaxed, Akande falls fast asleep cuddled against his side while Baptiste chills watching meaningless tv shows and movies. He’s like an old man sometimes, wearing glasses to read and falling asleep at the end of every single movie he tried to make him watch. And he likes it, the domesticity they’ve made out of a simple room that should be suffocating but it’s still too big for them.

Baptiste found out Akande wasn’t just older, but 9 years older than him and he doesn’t miss a chance to give him shit about it. After an impromptu session of morning sex, Baptiste jumped out of bed ready to get some breakfast downstairs while they got their room cleaned, but Akande grumbled from the bed, yawning and stretching sore muscles. “Is your age starting to wear you out, big guy?” he said, and had yet another mind-blowing orgasm courtesy of Akande’s never tiring stamina. He fucked him against the tiles of the shower, Baptiste wrapping arms and legs around him and holding onto him while his pleasure overflowed him. He had to concede the man could keep up with him and wear him down, but the teasing would never end. Not if this is the reward.

Later that evening, Baptiste awakes, drooling slightly on Akande’s chest. For a moment, he thought he was back at the headquarters and his heart skipped a bit, but as he felt the beating of his heart, he relaxed and basked in his reassuring warmth. When he’s ready to come back to the present, Baptiste glances up at him. Akande is reading something on a datapad, probably working or catching up with the world despite he promised he wouldn’t.

The light of the screen reflects on his glasses, a subtle furrow between his eyebrows, lips pressed together until Baptiste rubs a nipple with his thumb and they curl in a surreptitious smile. “Work?” he mumbles, voice hoarse.

Akande rets the pad on the bedside table and takes his glasses off, laying them on top. Baptiste uses the momentum to pepper kisses on his chest, legs tangling underneath the thin sheets. “Sweet boy,” Akande murmurs, winding his arms around him as if he had missed him the hours he was asleep.

Baptiste searches for his mouth and steals a drowsy kiss. “What time is it?”

“Seven or so. Are you hungry?” He relishes in those sleepy eyes and lazy smile, forgetting all about the impending trip to Havana that looms over his mood. 

In just a few days, he needs to meet with Maximilien. The omnic arranged another meeting for him but won’t disclose the location until they can talk about it in person. Whatever business brought them to the island has to do with laundering money, and even though Akande doesn’t care where his funding comes from, the whole issue irks him. He has enough enemies that come to him upfront and he definitely doesn’t need the omnic and their intrigues messing with him from the shadows.

“Not really.” Baptiste rubs his belly, then meets his eyes and notes again that worrisome furrow between his eyebrows. “You?”

“I already ate and ordered a sandwich for you just in case.” Baptiste smiles at him, silently thankful for the snack he’ll have later. “We could go out if you want.” Akande runs a thumb over his lips, feeling the teasing tip of his tongue against his digit. Baptiste shakes his head without losing eye contact with him, wondering how long would take Akande to best him against the bed if he latches on his thumb.

“You seem worried,” he says instead of following his mischievous intentions.

“It’s nothing,” Akande reassures him.

“If you gotta go, you gotta go.” Baptiste shrugs, trying to hide his disappointment. They still have tomorrow to keep ignoring the reality of their lives and pretend this is just a normal vacation when it truly feels like being back home, but if he has to leave now, he won’t be a nuisance.

“No,” Akande chuckles, freeing Baptiste’s heart from the strings that tightened around it. He’ll have time to miss him when he’s gone; Baptiste refuses to be sad when his lips are a breath away. “Nothing is more important than you,” he says, trapping his chin between his knuckles and pressing a searing kiss on his lips.

Akande moves down his jaw and neck, biting the marks he has been leaving there as if he had free reign to mark him at will. “Hm,” Baptiste moans, cocking his head aside while Akande swipes his tongue over a fading bruise, kissing his way near the crook of his neck. “Not there or I’ll jump you again, big guy,” he purrs.

“Oh yeah?” he retorts smugly, clenching his teeth around a mouthful of his skin.

Baptiste stifles a chuckle, realizing as long as they’re in bed, alone and with no obligations besides the ones they choose, they’ll keep exhausting themselves. “Hey,” he croaks, escaping the tender ministrations. He folds his arms over Akande’s chest and reclines his head on them. “Can I ask you something?”

Greedy fingertips move to his braided dreadlocks until he’s toying with the ends near his nape. They’re getting too long and too high maintenance for his taste. “Sure.” Akande nods.

“How did you end up in Talon?” Baptiste asks. When he joined, Akande was already a renowned agent.

“Fate,” Akande says, averting his gaze.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for someone that leaves this kind of decision to fate,” Baptiste quips.

“I met you in Talon.” His smile is sly and playful, and cannot fool Baptiste.

“Yeah, yeah, sweet-talker.” He lands a grateful kiss on his skin and stares at him, waiting for the real answer.

Akande sighs and concedes. “I was lost after the war and I found a purpose with my master. He brought me to Talon and introduced me to the big bugs.”

“And now you run the place,” Baptiste winks at him.

“If only.” His gaze darkens, and Baptiste awaits, fearful to push for more but dying to know the man he loves with every fiber of his heart. Is Akande an illusion? Is he in love with the real thing, Doomfist, or a stranger that could turn on him? He glimpses a new shade of pain in his dark chocolate eyes, but then he meets his eyes, and a soft smile stretches on his lips. “I was born in privilege,” Akande says. “My parents owned a prosthetic-technology company and I worked for them while practicing martial arts. Since I was very young, fighting was my passion. I loved competing...” he trails off as if he was caught up in a happy memory.

“You still own the company?”

“Some of it,” Akande says, the corner of his mouth pulling upward. “Most of it, actually.”

“What about martial arts?” Baptiste asks.

“No one would let me fight with a highly-advanced prosthetic, so that was it about my dream.” Akande shrugs, but it still stings the turn his life took when he was barely twenty. “I lost my arm after the omnic war. A stupid accident that shouldn’t have happened,” he mutters, “but I was lucky enough to recover thanks to my family’s money and access to top tier technology.”

“Now I understand why I hadn’t seen a prosthetic like yours before,” Baptiste mumbles, “no one else has one.” Akande nods.

“It was experimental, even up to this day we aren’t able to commercialize it.”

“But why join Talon? You seem involved in your family business, why not run the company and contribute to the world?”

“Because I was lost,” Akande cups his face and strokes his cheek with his thumb. No matter how hard he explains, Baptiste will never understand how empty he felt, how purposeless his life was. “I missed fighting, competing, striving for more than settling in and being wealthy. When my parents died, I knew I had to do more or I’d go mad.” He sighs. “And that’s when I put my business aside and became a mercenary for Adeyemi.”

“You fell into it?”

“I chose Talon,” Akande says. “I could fight again, feel it in my bones, and more importantly, I could change the world with my fists instead of sitting in an office.” Baptiste sighs, unable to share the rush of excitement in Akande’s voice. War is war, something you survive, not to pursue. But cages are made of many materials, and Akande’s was made of wealth and stability while his own was made of the cruelty of the war and the uncertainty of the aftermath.

“Did you choose well, big guy?” he asks, lips quirking up in a teasing smile.

“As I said before,” Akande grins. “I met you here.” Before they both bark a laugh at his cheesiness, they indulge in a brief kiss. “Your turn. How did a talented combat medic end up in Talon?”

“Oh, boy,” Baptiste croons, rolling off of him and onto his back. The bedding is cold and it sends a shiver through his body. “I’m sure you’ve read my dossier already.” He sneaks a curious glance at Akande who lies on his side beside him.

“I have, but it didn’t say much,” Akande admits, skimming fingers over his tanned skin. “I want an updated version.” Kissing his temple, he tries to coax an answer from him. Baptiste has been elusive about talking about his past and his family, they both have, but he wants to know who he was to understand why is he so smitten with him. As if that would ever make sense.

Baptiste fills his lungs with courage and lets the air out in a deep sigh. “I’m one of the many million orphans the omnic war left behind. I lost everything and everyone and grew up in an orphanage.” The sad story everyone has heard a million times and no one wants to tell.

“You have no one back home?” Akande frowns, almost believing the cheerful medic had a family somewhere. Why would he otherwise be tied to Port-de-Paix still?

“A few cousins, but we’re not really close. I have a friend who became a doctor. She’s great.” He smiles fondly thinking about Roseline, unsure if he should disclose this kind of information to Akande. He’s never told anyone besides Mauga and Sombra. “As kids we,” he snickers, “we talked about opening a clinic together."

“She’s the one taking care of the place on your behalf now, isn't she?” Akande asks.

Baptiste props up on one elbow. “Was that on my record?”

“Not in Talon’s,” Akande reassures him. “I dug deeper.” Baptiste leans back again, both arms underneath his head. “Your secret is safe with me,” he whispers, stealing a smile from Baptiste. “What happened at the orphanage? Did you run away?”

“Well, if enlisting the Caribbean Coalition pretending you’re 18 when you’re actually 16 counts as running away… yeah,” he scoffs. “It was like having a home again. I made close friends, learned how to be a combat medic, and I earned my pay helping my people until it disbanded.”

“You had it rough,” Akande mumbles, stroking his cheek with his knuckles. Baptiste turns to look at him with a grin on his face.

“Nah, some kids had it worse,” he says with a wink. Nothing will erase the sentiment of despair in a child’s heart at seeing his city destroyed, his family gone, and the world crumbling around him. Baptiste closes his eyes shut to quiet the memories. They come in the shape of emotions, fear, and uncertainty instead of vivid images. Akande takes his hand, intertwining their fingers together. The gesture brings him back to the present, and Baptiste stares at their joined hands as he resumes a story he thought he’d never tell again.

“I wanted to keep doing my job, so when Talon offered to hire us, I thought it would be pretty much the same, so I joined as most of my team did.” Baptiste sighs. If back then, he had been aware of Talon’s true nature he would have never associated himself with the organization. “Anyhow, they pay well, I travel a lot and I can help Roseline with the clinic. Not my dream job, far from it, actually,” he chuckles.

“What’s your dream?” Akande asks. He’s aware of Baptiste’s tendency to use humor to hide his true feelings. It couldn’t be easy to go through all that when he was barely a teenager. He had to support himself and was so kindhearted he chose to help those like him. Where he was selfish, Baptiste chose kindness.

“It’s stupid,” he snorts.

“C’mon,” Akande nudges him. It’ll never be as stupid as to give up a wealthy life and a multi-million company to become a mercenary, he wryly thinks.

“I wanted to help people,” Baptiste says, “become a hero.” His gaze turns to Akande, and despite he knows the words coming out of his mouth are silly and childish, a sense of pride and nostalgia invades him every single time. “I grew up admiring Overwatch.” He shrugs as if to play it down. “I wanted to be a hero like them.”

“A hero?” Akande smirks.

“Don’t laugh. I know I’m no hero material, but I was just a kid.”

“You are.”

“Shut up,” Baptise barks out a peal of nervous laughter.

“You’re something else out there, Baptiste,” Akande says without losing his smile. “You can shoot as well as keep the team alive and fighting. You didn’t sit idly, you got up and helped your community.” Baptiste buries his face in his chest, and he feels the subtle heat of his cheeks. “But Overwatch doesn’t deserve you, and there are no heroes among their ranks. They’re useless, a nuisance.”

Baptiste lifts his face at him, a furrow between his eyebrows. “They helped end the war, the world needed them and Overwatch responded when no one did,” he says.

“Years ago, maybe, but the world doesn’t need Overwatch anymore,” Akande retorts with a smug smile. “Overwatch needs the world, and that’s their weakness.”

Baptiste stares at him dead serious, unblinking as Akande’s words sink into his brain. “You’re an asshole!” he jests, punching him lightly on the chest. Akande laughs. “How did I end up in bed with you?”

“Because you like me,” Akande says, pulling Baptiste on top of him so he can wrap his arms around him. “And you want me in your bed as often as possible.”

“Hm…” Baptiste drags his lips over his mouth. “Well one thing you said is true,” he pauses, a sly smile growing on his lips. “I like you even when you’re an ass.” Akande smacks his butt cheeks with both hands, rubbing their soft cocks together to lighten the mood. Baptiste’s values extend beyond his own, but what he does are means to an end and there’s no time to think about collateral damage when a second war is in the making.

“You win in that department, pretty boy,” he whispers into his mouth.

“We’re so different though,” Baptiste murmurs, kissing tenderly his lips.

Baptiste will never understand his motives, and Akande will never make excuses. He can only hope he loves him despite his actions. Akande had plenty of options and chose a life of crime as a mercenary while Baptiste had nothing and fell into this life because he had no other choice. How did they end up falling in love with each other when they have nothing in common?

“I’m still waiting for you to look at me like everybody else does.”

“Like wow, look at how hot he is?” Baptiste jests.

“Like I’m a monster,” Akande says.

Leaning on his lips, Baptiste shushes him, hands cradling his face as he straddles him more comfortably. “You’re a kitten,” he teases with a smile.

“With you, maybe.”

“You purr more than you grunt.” He bites his lower lip before he dips his tongue inside his mouth, and there it is, the rumble that awakes a warmth in his stomach. He loves the man, not Doomfist, and it’s never been more clear how different the two personas are. 

Akande’s hands knead his butt, the thin sheet sliding off their bodies as Akande pushes it down with his heels. “When’s your flight?” Baptiste asks, ruining the mood for them a little.

“Tomorrow night.”

“Shit.” Baptiste hides his face in the crook of his neck. Time flies when they’re together.

“We still have tomorrow.” Akande moves his hands up and down his back, soothing his lover and himself, his heart shrinking at the imminent farewell. “And a whole night to catch not a single minute of sleep,” he whispers in a throaty promise. His joke seems to amuse Baptiste who sinks his teeth into his neck and follows the angry bite with more kisses.

“You better not fall asleep as soon as you’re done fucking me,” he warns, pressed against him in a full-body caress.

They’re done talking about stuff that will set them apart instead of bringing them closer. At the end of the day, nothing else matters but what they feel deep in their marrow. Baptiste is more real than anything he’s come across in his life; worthy of a thousand sleepless nights.

Akande rolls them over, settling between his legs, his mouth searching for the sweet taste of his lips. “I’m going to make you forget about everything,” he promises.

“Oh really?” Baptiste smirks, legs spreading to make room for his broad frame, his cock awakening by the gliding of their bodies.

“Everything.”

Akande bites his earlobe and down his neck. His Adam’s apple bobs when he swipes his tongue over it, stubble scratching his tongue. He fumbles for the bottle of lube he knows is lost somewhere underneath the pillows and finds it hastily. In no time, his lube-slicked fingers find Baptiste’s well-used hole.

The muttered moan that comes out of his lips tastes like the sweetest victory. Akande fingers him so slowly and gently Baptiste sways his hips against him, already wanting more. “W-what are those fingers for?” he gasps while Akande pushes his knees up to his shoulders, body trembling at those teasing fingertips curling upward as they enter him again, searching and finding. “We’ve been fucking so much I’m… ah…”

Akande shushes him. “I feel like playing.” That predatory smile, those smoldering eyes that stare at him brimming with lust. That usually means he’s going to feel like coming for an eternity before Akande allows him to. “And you’re my favorite toy…” But it also means Akande is going to worship every single inch of his body until he cannot take it anymore and begs, and then he’ll push him toward his climax with a mere caress.

Last time, Baptiste came hard and long just by the tip of his tongue running up his shaft from hilt to tip and a pair of fingers snuck in him. It was an otherworldly experience he’s eager to relive again. Baptiste stretches his arms above his head, pushing against the headboard for support while Akande mouths his way down his chest, latching on his nipples one by one until he’s panting.

“Akande,” he gasps, spreading his knees widely for his lover. _Take me. Wreck me. But come back._

“I’m going to eat you whole, pretty boy.” Akande grins, and Baptiste thrashes his head back and endures the sweet torture that is his lips on starved skin, his tongue trailing down his cock and teasing his balls.

The pleasure distracts him -them- of the imminent farewell that’ll crush his heart for they won’t see each other in longer than their naive hearts promised.


	11. Chapter 11

Paris became a distant dream in the months to come; a refugee to soothe his heart in lonely nights, the proof that what they had was real, happened, and marked them forever. But as Akande always says, the world never stops and neither does Talon nor his far-fetched ambitions. 

Baptiste felt his absence as deeply as he felt his presence; when he was about to drown and leave, Akande would come back and swaddle him in lies of grandeur. How he would change the world, free it from false heroes through conflict. Kissing him was easier than listening to his madness. He should have stepped away, be brave enough to ditch Talon and Doomfist. The idea of disappearing and coming back to Port-de-Paix chased him like a nightmare sometimes and a distant dream others. To run far away from this hell of a job and his infatuation with Akande.

But one of those things was inescapable, imbedded into his soul and heart, his touch marked into his body like invisible scars. There was no way to escape his feelings. Baptiste is in love with him even if he wants to pretend he’s not. When he’s about to fall out of love with him Akande comes back and leaves enough with him for whatever time they are apart.

The same man that makes him unbelievably happy and loves him to the core can’t even be with him, making running away and forgetting about Talon and the rest of the world impossible. Akande would never come with, and it’s killing him to be a side dish one day and the full moon the other. If only he could tell him he wants more, he wants him, Akande, not Doomfist. But he is both.

It’s been weeks, too many to count. Dreams never last too long, and Akande’s extended farther away than their bed and didn’t include him. Baptiste cannot agree with his actions, kindling the flame of war here and there when they lost so much because of it. He wants to be angry at him, but he’s just tired, touch-starved, craving the words of love Akande whispers to him in the heat of sex. He doesn’t even have that now and it feels more devastating than it should.

Not a word from him, not a call, no news, not even Sombra knows where to find Akande or perhaps she can’t tell. She told him he’s fine and shrugged, and Baptiste shook his head and tried to bury what he believes is unrequited love, a missing chance at a relationship, the biggest mistake he’s ever made, followed closely by joining Talon. If he had known after those wonderful days in Paris he wouldn’t see him again for so long, he would have locked themselves up until they were sick of each other. It would have made the farewell easier.

New Year’s eve is like a distant memory that steals a smile from him but also reminds him that as much as they try, they can’t be together. They are too different. They live in different worlds, different minds, different hearts, and yet he loves him with every fiber of his soul. He loves him until his chest hurts from the loneliness. What angers him the most is that he’d fall for him in battle, fighting for what’s not his, for another man’s dream. He hates that craven part of him that can’t stand up for what he believes is right and good; what his past twenty-year-old self couldn’t tell apart and joined Talon. Now he does, and he wants out.

But when Baptiste is in his arms, he dreams they could leave all this behind and just… be. Together, in love. It would never be enough for Akande, he knows, but it would be enough for him, would it? To live oblivious to the world’s needs and how he could use what he knows to help. Is there even time to become the hero he once dreamed he’d be?

Special reports about the consequences of Hurricane Fernand after it ravaged the Caribbean are still flooding the news. For the past week, Baptiste has been tempted to visit Port-de-Paix and asses the situation himself, but Roseline called just in time. They’re overwhelmed and lacking everything: meds, beds, doctors, but she insisted they’re as fine as they can be. He could be there helping out his people and instead, he’s idly waiting for the next profit-making mission. It breaks his heart how a storm can leave so many dead and cities destroyed and nobody bats an eye. Talon could help, Overwatch should help, but they’re too busy to care.

Baptiste realizes he’s been staring at the same page and the same paragraph for probably an hour and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose and reclining on the chair. It makes a creaking sound that brings him back to the present.

It would never be enough for him either. Why did they have to fall in love if what they want, their fate, their beliefs are so far apart they could never reconcile them? Why? Pain blooms in his chest and shrinks his heart. Not tonight, not again. Not when he hasn’t thought about him all day.

But when he’s in the office he remembers the night they met, the first time they talk and the first time his hands landed on a body he now knows by heart. The door opens abruptly and Baptiste winces in his seat, turning around to find _him_. Akande stares at him from under the threshold with an apologetic smile. His heart skips a beat, his stomach flips, and a lump sets in his throat. Is he really there or it is his treacherous imagination offering him a truce?

“Overworking yourself again?” Akande says, stepping inside and closing the door while Baptiste remains motionless.

Even if he expects it or not, Akande always comes back and finds him. Without a warning, catching his poor heart off guard. When he’s about to crumble, he comes back and the anger is gone, the doubts disappear; when nothing makes sense, Akande does; what he feels for him does. That sweet, deep, enthralling love that feels like a curse when he’s gone and a blessing when those eyes look at him with grief and longing and love deeper than he’s ever felt.

Baptiste stands with a sigh, battling between running into his arms and crashing against his chest or crumbling right there on the floor. One day he won’t come back to him, he knows, but that’s a fear he buries deeper than the others. It’s too real.

“What are you doing here?” Baptiste gathers enough courage to meet his gaze and trembles from head to toe. “Hurt again?” The glimpse of a smile curls the corner of his mouth, and Akande seems to release a breath that he was holding.

“Looking for you.” He gets closer, so close the scent of him is too much to bear; not without touching him and losing his pride on miles of ebony, godlike skin. Akande leans on the desk, his hand lifting hesitantly at him. “Baptiste…”

“Nice,” he blurts out, “I thought my boyfriend had ghosted me.” His hands stay on the desk, fingertips focused on the flat surface instead of following his wishes.

But then Akande motions behind him, pressing his full body length against his back and wrapping both arms around him. No truce, no chance to escape the full extent of his love. His hands feel warm and clammy through his shirt, and in a breath he’s leaning back, feeling the thumping of his heart, the steadiness of his breathing. His arms tighten around his front and Baptiste laces his arms around them.

“I’m…” Akande whispers against the shell of his ear.

“Don’t even… two months,” Baptiste mutters, relishing in the closeness of his body while he tries to remind himself this cannot be. “Not a word, not a call. Nothing.”

“I know.” It sounds like the apology Baptiste interrupted. “You cut your hair.” Akande nuzzles at his neck. There is no trace of the dreadlocks, he has shaved the sides and keeps his hair short and free at the top. “And that’s a sexy trimmed beard,” he whispers. He’s gorgeous, more even so than when he saw him last.

“Where have you been?” Turning around in his arms, Baptiste lifts his gaze at him. In a second, he’s equally trapped by a cage of muscles that will hold on to him for the rest of the night. Until he leaves again.

“Havana, Cairo, Venice,” Akane mumbles. “Business that I needed to take care of in person.”

“I see.”

“I couldn’t risk giving out my location. I haven’t called because I had no phone on me to remain untraceable,” he explains, pleading Baptiste to understand why it was vital to stay away. Not only was Akande protecting himself but Baptiste. He was being followed. Maximillien was the only council member aware of his location, and he’d be damned if he finds out about his relationship with the combat medic and uses it against him. Endangering Baptiste was never in his plans, and yet he cannot say that to him. “Please,” he whispers, closing eyes at the same time he presses their foreheads together. “I can’t lose you.”

Baptiste sighs, brushing gingerly his lips with his thumb. There are things Akande is hiding, not telling him, and deep inside he realizes he doesn’t want to know because they will only set them apart and not together. He cannot be his ally although he would, and Akande doesn’t want him involved and he has made that very clear with his actions, not his words. But as fragile as it is, Baptiste trusts him to handle this.

“When are you leaving?” The question that will eat him alive if he doesn’t know the answer beforehand.

Akande sighs. “Tomorrow.”

“Ok. Good night, travel safe and all that.” Baptiste tries to push him away and turn around to the dreaded files that need his attention, but Akande tightens his hold on him, lips pressed together in concern.

“If you want me to go, I’ll go.” He lifts his chin and scrutinizes his face expecting to find anger and rejection. “I tried to come back to you.”

“Is that what I am to you? Someone to come back to?” Akande cups his face and despite his efforts to push him away to protect himself, Baptiste leans into his touch.

“Yes,” he whispers. “I never had someone or somewhere I belonged; never wanted to.”

“Then end this.” Baptiste graces him with an insouciant shrug. “Let me go and we’re both free.”

“I can’t. I never will,” Akande promises. “We belong together.” Akande feels like gravity sometimes, it pulls at him from somewhere, keeps him upright or brings him down to the ground when he stumbles. “I love you.” Three words that sound like three beats of his heart and that he will never have the strength not to believe. “Sleep with me tonight.”

Baptiste chuckles, defeated, his mind a rambling mess of whatnots; what he wants and what he should do. “You wanna fuck? We’re damn good at that.”

“I want you.” Akande cups his face and grunts in frustration. “You, Baptiste.”

“Don’t get angry, big guy,” he whispers, hands holding onto Akande’s forearms, his thumbs relishing in the hard skin and tensed-up muscles. “If you wanna cuddle, we’ll cuddle,” he winks.

Akande sighs and buries his nose in the crook of his neck. The musky scent hints Baptiste has been working the whole day. It hits him like a drug, going directly to his brain. “I’ve missed you,” he mumbles, dragging his lips over the pulse point at his neck.

“I’ve missed you too.” His hands squeeze, and Akande straightens to meet his eyes.

“Cut me some slack and give me one of those smiles so I can breathe,” Akande says.

“I don’t know,” Baptiste teases, a withheld smile on his lips. “Next time send me a postcard or something…”

“Every second with you makes me feel alive for the time we’re apart.” Akande leans down to kiss his mouth and feels a weary smile breaking free on his lips.

“Almost there…”

The slow, tempting brush of their lips turns hazy in a second. His mouth lands on him like a punch he wasn’t expecting and knocks the breath out of him. Akande parts his lips and invades his mouth with a familiar tongue, and Baptiste moans, arms winding around his neck for support, his body pushing against him as if fighting him. Akande fights back, wants more. How could he possibly be dizzy and lacking air after just a few swipes of his tongue against his mouth. He tastes sweet like thick honey, and Baptiste has always had a sweet tooth.

“I’m so easy,” he chuckles, interrupting their heated moment. But then his smile is gone, vanished as if all his nightmares had come to warn him one last time.

“What is it?” Akane frowns.

“It’s not you or us, it’s…” Baptiste babbles, hands slacking over his broad shoulders. “... Talon. I feel like I’m drowning here being part of the problem and not helping anyone.” Akande opens his mouth to reply as he always does, but Baptiste continues. “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t be a part of this.” He opens his arms wide, meaning Talon, and Akande sighs.

Akande realizes it is not him he wants out but the organization that rules his life. He always knew Baptiste was too good to be just a mercenary, but he isn’t interested in climbing the ranks either. All the things that rob him of his sleep: power, connections, money; those mean nothing to the desperate man in front of him. And the worst part is that he loves him for it from the bottom of his heart.

“I am trying to change all that,” Akande says.

“For the better? Because I could be anywhere fixing the messes Talon leaves behind and I’d be ten times happier.” Baptiste grunts in frustration. “I’d be on the right side for once,” he mutters. His arms sag at his sides, realizing he’s barking at the wrong tree.

If they follow that line of conversation they’ll both spend a sleepless night feeling miserable on their own beds and won’t solve a single one of the troubles that torment him. Akande has no time to explain again why Talon is the key to change, that he has invested over ten years of his life in this and can’t decide to stop now that he’s so close to end Overwatch and give the world closure.

“Spend the night with me,” Akande says instead. He’s upset, and nothing he’ll do or say will make up for his absence or will give him what he wants. “Let me make you feel better.” His arms thread around Baptiste’s waist and his mouth lands on his jaw, kissing, nibbling, following the harsh scratches of his trimmed beard with his nose. “It’s hard for me too, being apart… all this.” Baptiste sighs, yielding to his words and his tender ministrations. “Please,” he rumbles.

A chuckle escapes him, his hand moving to cup Akande’s face to grasp his attention. “Okay, give me ten so I can wrap things up around here.”

“No,” he growls, pressing his hips against him while he lets his tongue out to lick his lower lip.

“You, tease…” The more Akande grinds against him, the faster his cock stiffens, and Baptiste responds in kind. He can feel his bulge, his hands moving down his lower back to cradle his backside. “You’re convincing. Let’s get out of here.”

“What if I want you here and now?” His hot breath puffs against his earlobe, and Baptiste shivers. Akande sneaks a hand in between them and palms his groin over his fatigues.

It’s been so long Baptiste had almost forgotten he has a dick with specific needs Akande knows how to provide so fucking well. Baptiste hooks an arm around his neck while the other slides underneath Akande’s shirt. His skin is warm, hard, his heart thumping against his palm. That hot mouth on his neck is snatching the ability to talk or think.

“How about I fuck you here on top of the desk?” Akande whispers low and raspy. His cock jerks against his hand and a soft chuckle follows a needy whine. Akande pries open his fly and expertly takes him in hand and out of the snug trap of his garments.

“The windows,” Baptiste blurts out, tracing trembling fingers on the soft skin at his nape while the other pinches a nipple to get Akande’s attention. “They’re open.” His words die in a moan when Akande squeezes his cock and gives a long stroke to his shaft. The tip dripping clear droplets anticipating a surreptitious handjob here and now.

“It's fortunate we’re on the other side of the desk,” Akande jests, ignoring Baptiste’s worries.

He cups the head gently and smears the slickness on his palm, sliding down his shaft once more in a loose fist. “Oh God,” Baptiste breathes out, clutching at his neck, his hips already thrusting through his fist. “This is so unfair, big guy…”

“I know your weaknesses,” he whispers against his ear while stroking his cock. “Would you like me to fuck you here though?”

“Fuck, yes.”

“Your legs around my waist and my cock filling you up,” he says, moving to kiss his lips and speak those dirty words against his mouth. “I could turn you around and put my mouth on you until you’re so wet I can get inside you.” His hand keeps the slow killing pace, Baptiste’s cock leaking down his shaft and easing his movements. “Then I’d just fuck you until you beg me to stop.”

“I’d never do that and you know it,” Baptiste chuckles.

“Beg me to stop or just beg?”

“Both.” He bites his lower lip before a moan overflows his mouth. Akande twists his wrist on his way up and down his shaft and his stomach curls in pleasure. “Stop or I’m coming.”

Akande’s throaty chuckle is like a balm to his soul. “I’d rather have my sweet time with you in bed but…” With a last kiss, Akande releases his cock and kneels between his legs. He hooks his fingers on his fatigues and boxers and pulls them down to his knees. “I could go for a snack.”

“W-what the…” Baptiste pants, his cock standing firmly a few inches away from Akande’s sweet, plump lips. “I’m half-naked and,” he looks over his shoulder. The blinds of the window’s office are up. He can see the solitaire loneliness that invades the med bay at night, but everyone coming in unexpectedly would see him in a very compromised position. “And we’re going to get caught.”

Akande drags his mouth from hilt to tip, a sly smile on his lips. “Let’s be quick about it then.” He grasps his cock with one hand and closes his mouth around the tip, savoring the salty taste of him. His thumb toys with his balls and the rest of his fingers tickle the hairs down his happy trail. He twirls his tongue around the head of his cock, slowly swallowing him whole into his wet, luscious mouth.

“Fuck,” Baptiste curses, glancing over his shoulder one last time before he’s looking down at Akande on his knees, his plump lips around his girth and his mouth suckling the life out of his needy cock. His dick throbs for release, his balls already tight and ready to shoot. Akande shows him no mercy, big, gentle eyes meeting his gaze before he hides them behind his lids and continues sucking his cock. Dragging him in and out, encouraging his pleasure with muffled moans and hums.

Baptiste grips the edge of the desk with white-knuckle force, hips rocking into his mouth until he realizes he’s thrusting in and tapping the back of his throat every single time. That’s when the world disappears, the blinding lights of the office aren’t bothering him so much anymore, and he fixes his glazy gaze on the man on his knees.

“Yes, fuck, Akande,” he mumbles. “Yes, more.”

Akande loves the lack of air of having a cock deep down his throat in rhythmical thrusts. With his free hand, he fumbles open his fatigues and takes himself in hand. He’s unable to stop himself or wait for later, so turned on by Baptiste’s melodic moans as he melts into his mouth. His cock is rock hard, and one gentle squeeze is enough to make him see stars. He strokes himself fast though, wanting to ride this out with him while his cock is still hard and willing to fill his mouth.

His mouth exists for his oral pleasure alone. The office spins, or maybe it is his head, lost in lust, and love, and everything Akande offers. From crumbles of his time, to his undivided attention, Baptiste will take everything. His body tenses up, and he moves a hand to the back of Akande’s head. He notes how he gags, how his throat constricts around his pulsing cock and knows it’s just a moment, a moment of struggle Akande loves.

His climax shakes him until his legs are wobbly, his lungs empty of hair and his balls empty of cum. Baptiste releases him as soon as his orgasm unleashes, but Akande keeps him there, sucking and swallowing every single drop of his load. He gulps around his cock and moans for more, and that’s when Baptiste realizes Akande is jerking off, with his impressive cock out in his hand and white spurts dripping down his knuckles. Fuck the man is sexy all over giving head, fucking him senseless or taking a good pounding on his behalf.

“God, I love you,” Baptiste says, the corner of his mouth pulling upward in a half-smile.

Akande sucks his softened cock clean, keeping it in his mouth. Baptiste grips his shoulder for support and gasps. “Ah, stop,” he whines, coming out between a laugh and a cry. “Nothing left for you there.” He releases him with a wet slurping noise and a grin.

“What can I say? I like sucking your dick.” Akande says, standing up from the sturdy floor.

Baptiste tucks himself in and arches an eyebrow at Akande, a sticky hand and a flat cock leaving a wet spot on his fatigues. “Nice mess you’ve made there, big guy.” He reaches for a box of tissues inside of a drawer and hands him a few. As he did to himself, Baptiste tucks him while Akande cleans his hands. He’s big even when he’s spent, and he loves it.

Akande leans down to kiss him, and he relishes in his own taste on his lips and tongue, his cock desperate to get hard again. They melt into a sex-flavored kiss for as long as they please without worrying too much if someone catches them now. It could have been worse just moments ago. The kiss ends with them both laughing silly as if they were sharing the same thought.

“Baptiste,” Akande whispers, losing his smile for a moment, a familiar crease in between his eyebrows. “You could get out of here and I’d still love you,” he confesses.

“It doesn’t matter now.” Baptiste shrugs, searching for his mouth for another kiss to prevent them from having this useless conversation. He won’t leave Talon if Akande is around, it’s hard enough as it is, he doesn’t need to become an enemy of the organization his boyfriend wants to own. Talon’s runaways never get too far anyhow. Baptiste can't live a life looking over his shoulder.

“You matter to me,” Akande whispers. “If I can’t make you happy I’m part of the problem.”

 _You are_ , Baptiste wryly thinks. “I’m happy now,” he says instead, with a dopey smile for the dangerous man that holds his heart in his big hands. “C’mon, let’s get naked until you’ll have go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're close to the end! (￣▽￣)ノ Thank you to everyone reading along for this weird -and certainly underrated- pairing. I'm going through a rough patch creatively speaking, but the story is already thought-out, I just need to keep writing <3 It'll be 15 chapters and I'm really excited to share it! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My head's all over the place lately, but enjoy some porn <3

A different room again, but they’re used to it. They’ve fucked in so many beds and places the only thing that matters is doing it together. At least Akande’s high profile in Talon comes with added benefits sometimes. The room is ample, the bed big and comfortable, and the shower confines them both as they try to imprint themselves under their respective skins with kisses and desperate caresses. Akande already misses what he’ll crave tomorrow night, and Baptiste promises to himself to enjoy this, now, and forget about tomorrow while his arms are around him, his mouth devours his lips, and his hard cocks harden fast in Akande’s slippery grip.

They always make the most of their showers. A mixture of lathering soap as an excuse to find new scars, old hidden ones, and spend every minute they can together even if it’s under a stream of steamy water. Baptiste chuckles and revels in Akande’s hands all over him even when they’re walking to the bed, bodies pressed together in a naked embrace.

“This room is better than the last,” he says, teasing, turning around and sitting on the mattress while glancing up at Akande.

Miles of ebony skin prickle all the little hairs of his body with blessed anticipation. He spreads his knees and gives a long stroke to his half-hard cock while he watches Akande do the same while glancing down at him, smitten with each other like the first night.

“But not like our room in Paris,” Akande says with a smile. Already missing his touch, he crawls up the bed following Baptiste as he shuffles back.

“Nothing will top that place.” Akande drags his lips from his knee up to his thigh, his abdominal muscles, and the dip of his chest. Baptiste receives his lover with eager hands and lips and smiling like he hasn’t in weeks. What will be of him if he can only smile while they’re together?

“We’ll come back for our second anniversary, I promise,” Akande says. “Same room and all.”

Baptiste chuckles, their bodies fitting like missing puzzle pieces that found each other again in a dark room. “Yeah, I’d like that.” How can they know where they’ll be in a year or two? Stability doesn’t define them not their relationship, but Baptiste trusts his heart and his truthful promises like the fool he is around him.

“You got lube?” Baptiste mumbles, already aching for him.

“Under the pillows,” Akande whispers, moving his willing lips to pepper kisses on his jaw and neckline.

“Oh, so you came here first and prepared, uh?” Baptiste fumbles blindly for the lube until he finds it, a task hindered by Akande’s relentless mouth. A chuckle rumbles in his chest at the suggestion.

“I also left my stuff here and made the bed,” Akande teases.

“You were so sure you’d get into my pants, asshole,” Baptiste nudges him with the bottle and earns a bite on his neck. He arches slightly into him, gasping. “How’s it gonna be, big guy?”

“I want to play with you.” That smoky voice puffs hot and tempting against his ear and Baptiste’s stomach curls nice and warm. If only they were free to be like this every day.

“Hmmm.” His lips twist in a smug smile. “You’re going to have your way with me?” he teases, rolling to his side while Akande settles behind him, chest against back, his hard cock poking the back of his thighs. He’s in the mood to feel Akande inside him for the rest of the night.

“I’m going to make you feel good,” he whispers against his ear before lube-slicked fingers smear his way in between his cheeks and tease his hole. A guttural moan comes out of him unannounced, his spine arching into him.

“Promises, promises,” Baptiste smiles languidly. If he closes his eyes, it’s like they’re back in Paris and the last few weeks never happened.

“Until you beg, pretty boy…” Spooning him from behind, Akande slides a finger inside him, intending to fulfill his promises one at a time.

Sometimes they want the rush of adrenaline, like earlier in his office when neither can help it. But others Akande is so sweet and gentle his heart weeps for him at every caress. Lips stroke the shell of his ear on his way down. Akande nuzzles at his neck while mouthing and biting, distracting him from the second finger that enters him and works to make him pliant enough to take his cock. He’s taking his time, as if it didn’t matter, as if they had an endless night to bask in shameless sex like ordinary lovers.

Baptiste gasps, pushing back into his fingers in between little whines and whimpers. They glide inside to the second knuckle and out, stretching him at a slow killing pace. He needs more, wants him, and his hole clenches to try to keep them inside. Heat spreads on his chest and up to his face from sheer impatience. What this man does to him, driving him mad every time his hands land on his body and his mouth speaks of love in the shape of kisses.

In one night, they can’t burn all the desire they accumulated, but they try, they hope to extinguish a fire that will consume them alive unless they do.

“You have no idea how much I like doing this to you,” Akande whispers tenderly, his fingers snug deep inside him. He bites gently his earlobe, sucking it into his hot mouth.

If anybody knew the silly words Akande blurts out in the midst of sex, his reputation would be ruined forever. The perilous Doomfist is a hopeless romantic who could spend hours to no end kissing and worshiping his skin in a myriad of ways, but that can also deliver an outstanding pounding. Baptiste loves the soreness of his muscles afterward; not so much when he’s gone and it’s the sole reminder of what he will only get in his dreams until they meet again.

“You’re taking your sweet time,” Baptiste complains, his cock already hard and leaking a clear trail on the bedding. Lips part as little breaths escape him and he gets hornier and hornier.

“Hm… yes,” Akande teases with a shit-eating grin.

“Just give me your dick.” Baptiste moans when Akande thrusts his fingers into him, but curses out loud when he withdraws them and pretends a kiss on his nape will make up for the emptiness he feels. “Akande,” he mumbles.

He chuckles, patting his butt. “Get on your fours for me?”

“Finally!” Baptiste rolls on his stomach and beams at him with a sultry smile. His knees lift his lower body in a sexy cat-stretch that makes Akande growl in desperation.

He motions behind him on the bed, hands cupping his ass cheeks for a gentle spread. “I’m not done with you yet,” he grunts, sliding forward in a full-body caress to bite Baptiste’s earlobe again.

His tongue trails down the curve of his spine, the round of his butt, making sure he kisses the dimples of his hips, lingering on his tailbone with back and forth swipes of his tongue. Baptiste keeps waiting for that hot tongue lashing on his hole, but Akande smacks his butt and straightens, admiring the mess he has already made of him.

Baptiste wrings the sheets with both fists, glancing at him over his shoulder with bedroom eyes. “You’re a tease and you’ll pay for this,” he quips.

“Oh, really?” His thumb slides in and out his lubed hole and Baptiste moans a curse again, burying his face in the pillow.

Akande teases him a tad more before drizzling more lube on his cock. His hands grip his cheeks as he slides right in between them. A rumbling moan reverberates in his chest at the delicious friction he gets, rocking his hips back and forth while Baptiste arches up against him. He’s half-pleased and half-impatient for more, but when Akande wants to play it means he’ll be a sore mess before he finally comes.

“Can you just,” Baptise gasps, relishing in the light slapping of Akande’s balls against his backside, “do that but in and out of me?” he finishes, tempted to grasp his cock in a tight fist but realizing Akande wouldn’t allow him to even if he tried.

“Ask nicely,” Akande retorts, ceasing his movements and grabbing his cock by the hilt as he aligns the slicked, pre-cum-leaking tip against his hole.

“Oh, fuck you,” Baptiste moans, bracing himself on his spread palms, the mattress sinking as he looks at him over his shoulder. “Big guy, if you don’t dick me up right fucking now, it’s gonna be me on the other side.”

His threat dies in a moan, eyes closing shut and eyebrows creasing when Akande swivels his hips forward and dips the very tip of his fat cock into him. He breaches his well-prepped ass and relishes in the tight heat that welcomes him. But the most beautiful sight comes from Baptiste’s face twisted in sheer satisfaction. And he hasn’t even bottomed out yet.

“That good?” Akande teases.

“Now move,” Baptiste answers with a chuckle, looking at him from the corner of his eye so he doesn’t miss the sweet smile about to break free on his lips. “Please, big guy.”

Akande grabs his backside with both hands, eyes fixed on his hard cock as he slowly slides home; basking in the muscle stretching around his girth and the loud sigh that escapes his lungs when he enters him. He scoots closer and watches his dick disappearing inside him until he’s fully sheathed and ready to empty his balls by the slow glide alone.

“You’re gorgeous,” he babbles, remaining still, the clamping of his body hinting he should wait for him to adjust to his size before moving.

So he waits; kneading his hips, stroking his sides, soothing the sudden fullness of having him inside. Baptiste’s dark skin prickles under his touch, his body swaying accompanying his breathing. “Your dick’s so big,” he pants.

“Don’t you like it, pretty boy?”

Truth is, Baptiste wouldn’t choose to bottom so often, but that was before Akande. There’s something about his thick, heavy cock that strokes him in all the right places; the fullness of their mating, Akande’s reassuring hands all over him, the definition of pleasure found in an orgasm triggered by his thrusts alone. He likes it so damn much he’d beg for it.

Baptiste relaxes, chest resting against the mattress, arms curled on top of his head. He inadvertently grazes the wall in front of him with his fingertips and anchors his knees on the bed, getting himself ready for that first onslaught that makes him see stars. But before he can spur him on with dirty words, Akande thwarts his plans.

“Come up here with me.”

Akande’s big arm threads around his waist, his lips pressing a kiss at the base of his nape. He lifts them both until Akande is sitting comfortably on his calves and Baptiste sinks into his lap, sprawled over his strong thighs. His cock is buried balls-deep inside him, and it takes him a moment to realize he’s scared of falling when a pair of comforting arms wrap him in a reassuring embrace and tender caresses.

“I got you,” Akande mumbles against his ear and Baptiste relaxes, legs slacking down the bed, arms following Akande’s movements all over his torso.

“You better,” Baptiste teases, “but you’re still not moving.” Moaning, he clenches his hole around him, squeezing his cock. Akande growls, and he feels it against his back like the answer to his demands.

Akande moves his hands to cup his chest into his palms, his thumbs teasing his nipples while he mouths at his neck. He’s not in a hurry, and even though his cock throbs engulfed by him, he intends to enjoy this for as long as he can. “Sit tight, pretty boy. I haven’t even started yet.”

A hand moves down his navel, toying with the happy trail that leads to his leaking cock. The remnants of lube on his fingers make the first stroke so pleasant Baptiste clenches around him. Akande pumps his dick in a slow slide, his other hand reaching for his neck, fingers bumping on his lips and dipping into his parted mouth.

Baptiste latches on them, half-lidded eyes unable to fix on anything but the sweet overstimulation of his senses. Akande’s breath puffs against his neck, his chest rising and falling along with them. His hand knows exactly how to move, how to twist at the tip to send a rush of pleasure through his dick. If he could choose the pace, he’d come right now, choking on those big fingers sliding in and out of his mouth while he uselessly tries to pump through his fist. 

Spit-licked fingers trace his bottom lip while his thumb moves in circles over the crown of his cock. “Throw me a bone, big guy,” he whispers.

To his disappointment, Akande releases his cock and leads his hand to grip his hip. His other hand wraps loosely around his neck, thumb and forefinger bracketing his jaw. Baptiste instinctively holds onto his arm, anticipating Akande’s intentions. His lover straightens enough to swivel his hips back. He pulls halfway out and comes back in a gauged slam that makes Baptiste thrash his head back and gasp. His cock jerks firmly in the air, and he’s at the brink of orgasm by that thrust alone.

“More,” he babbles in an almost inaudible whisper.

“You squeeze me so good,” Akande says, pulling out again and feeling the hugging of his body once more in the next breath. “So good.” Akande has no intentions yet to send them both to an impending climax, just enough to make Baptiste sing a blue streak of moans and curses whenever he brushes his prostate or begs for his hand on his cock.

He fucks into him at the tempo of his heart, steady, hard, never leaving him empty and always coming back. It is one of those moments when the world could end and they wouldn’t even notice. When the taste of his skin, the salty sweat permeating his neck, the scent of sex invading his nostrils and the dancing of their bodies together means everything; belongs to him alone.

“You’re so sweet, letting me handle you,” Akande teases, settling for shallow thrusts as he drags his lips over his shoulder and neck.

Baptiste chuckles. “You couldn’t handle me even if you tried,” he says, but his voice wavers and his body tightens around his cock every time Akande bottoms out. He arches into him, trying to angle himself so he gets that otherworldly jolt of pleasure again.

“Don’t get cocky.” Akande strokes in and out of him despite his own balls drawing up tightly and demanding release. “I like you like this.”

“Let me come already,” Baptiste gasps, leaning back into him.

“No…”

He feels like sobbing at the answer, impatience and frustration mixing and prickling his skin. “You shouldn’t have this stamina at your age,” he jests.

“I’m not that old,” Akande growls, biting his earlobe, and his lover chuckles.

Akande ceases his movements, resting back on his calves and taking Baptiste with him for more teasing. Baptiste keeps his cock warm and is about to complain when a big, callous hand wraps around his own poor dick. Akande pumps his cock fast, up and down, mouthing at his neck and relishing in the sweet trap of his body.

“Big guy,” Baptiste moans, hoping this is it, the moment he lets go and becomes putty into his hands.

But it isn’t. When he’s about to cum all over himself, Akande stops, denies him of his hand and cups his chest again, pinching his nipples. “That was the meanest,” Baptiste pauses to gasp for air, “and the cruelest thing you’ve ever done to me,” he finishes.

Akande chuckles, soothing his lover’s soreness with tender kisses. For a few moments, Baptiste mourns the orgasm stolen from him and sighs, turning his head around enough to find his smirking lips. The kiss swells his heart, awakening the warmth that usually wraps around it when Akande makes him the sole object of his affections.

But then he reaches for his cock again, and in merely a few strokes, Baptiste is there already, begging and babbling nonsense and wishing to push himself over the edge once and for all. Akande strokes him in a loose fist, once, twice, until his hole tightens around his cock and he releases him, cradling his balls instead. Baptiste whines into his mouth, nails digging holes into the arm around his chest.

“I’ve changed my mind,” he whispers, pausing to bite Akande’s plump lower lip. “ _ That _ was the meanest thing you’ve ever done to us.”

“I know you like it.” Akande mimics Baptiste’s withheld smile as they kiss, his tongue dipping into his mouth, his hips rocking into him inadvertently.

“I need you to pound me, big guy. I need to cum.”

“But you’re so pretty like this,” Akande quips, hugging him closer, lifting them both slightly upward so he can fuck into him in short, gauged thrusts. “I like to take my time with you.”

“Time you don’t have, huh?” It’s probably not that late yet, but they dread the hours flying, the sun rising, and Akande’s departure looming over them. Hiding in the underground headquarters they can pretend, but the clock is ticking. Baptiste realizes a churning feeling settles in his stomach at his track of thought and lifts his hand to reach for Akande’s face. “Let me come and keep fucking me all you want,” he says in a sultry whisper.

“Hm…” Akande pulls out and comes back in a slam that makes Baptiste moan. His hands cup his round butt as if he were thinking about it, knowing he has the upper hand.

“You can even fuck me in my sleep for all I care,” he says. “Just let me come…”

“You’re going to come undone, pretty boy.” Akande grips forcefully his cheeks and slams back in so harsh he almost topples over Baptiste.

“Oh, please,” Baptiste moans, worrying at his lower lip and wishing those sparse onslaughts happened faster and unrestrained. He turns around to speak against his mouth. “Fuck me until I can’t remember my name.”

“You want me that bad?” Akande smirks.

Baptiste unthreads the arms around his torso and bends over, bracing himself on his forearms. He moans from the back of his throat when they change the angle and his cock puts pressure on his prostate. Akande kneads his butt cheeks, scooting closer until he’s buried to the hilt again.

“Please,” Baptiste mumbles, “just fuck me I… can’t take it.”

Akande shushes him, the corners of his mouth pulling upward in a smile. “Looks who’s begging?” he teases. He leans forward until his hips mold his backside and he is free to hook his arms around his shoulders to pull him closer. Back against chest, the only thing he feels is the expanse of his bare skin against his body.

“Yes,” Baptiste bites back a sob of relief. “Someone couldn’t wait any longer, huh?”

Akande’s smoky chuckle reverberates at his back. “Come here and let me love you,” he purrs, attempting a shallow back and forth into his surely gaping hole.

His hot breath wheezes against his ear, arms tightening their embrace in the first delicious, harsh onslaught that makes him see stars and wish for more. His cock pistons in and out of him, filling him to the brim or leaving him expectant for the next slam of his body. Baptiste can’t move, doesn’t wish to, so he yields and enjoys what he’s been demanding from him since they got in bed together. He has to admit the build-up has its rewards, and Akande knows how to push all the buttons that lead to an otherwordly orgasm.

“I’m close,” Akande whispers, speeding up the slamming of his hips.

“Me too.”

Baptiste can’t reach for his cock, Akande has him pinned down and held by the shoulders. His knees slide further apart on the bedding, his weight on his back pushing him down. It would be overwhelming but he loves every single bit of it. Akande’s thrusts become frantic, pounding into him from behind as if he had forgotten to take his time, as if all that mattered now were them fucking and he was unable to leash his lust any longer.

Every time he bottoms out Baptiste triest to hold still but ends up scrambled on the mattress, his cock jerking whenever a timely thrust sends him down. His knees can’t hold on any longer, and he begs, and moans, and asks for more while Akande tells him how sweet he is, how good he takes him and how he loves his hole squeezing his cock.

Akande’s cock swells and his balls draw up tight as his climax approaches. He bites down his shoulder to muffle a cry of relief when he feels the overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over him and he shoots his load deep inside him. Along with the pain of the ruthless bite, Baptiste feels the hot gush filling him and how Akande keeps fucking him even during his climax. Thrusting, slamming harder, faster while he shakes and comes undone by his own pleasure flashing through him like a jolt.

The thought of them together like this, those strong arms tightening their embrace and his cock brushing the bedding at the mad rhythm of Akande’s fucking; all of it sends him over the edge and into a very much anticipated orgasm that he hopes lasts an eternity. Akande sneaks a hand underneath them both in time to stroke his half-hard cock and milks him dry as he spills.

He never stops fucking into him, still hard, refusing to end this now or ever. Akande topples over him and Baptiste falls boneless on the bed. Part of him wants to laugh, the other wants to savor the moment and make it last forever. Akande is still inside him, and he’s lying on top of his own mess, but those lips press wet, tender kisses behind his ear and a familiar warmth curls his stomach.

“You bit me hard, animal,” Baptiste teases, and Akande clenches his teeth around a mouthful of his neck before they both chuckle in unison.

Maybe they can make it; they can find happiness in moments like these even though they’re short and sweet. Akande slips out of his body with a soft groan. “Stay there.” He smacks his side and walks into the ensuite.

Baptiste turns his head around and watches him standing in all his glorious nakedness as he cleans up near the sink. His lips curl in a surreptitious smile. He’s in love; he has been for a year now and he regrets nothing except, perhaps, fighting against it for far too long. Akande comes back with a wet towel and cleans him up while sparing kisses up his back and shoulders.

“Nex time, I’m going to remember how you teased me, just saying,” Baptiste threatens, rolling on his back.

“Can’t wait.” Akande kisses his lips and cleans the sticky mess on his stomach before he pulls at the covers and they both slide into the comfort of the bed. He holds him close, but as if fearing the imminent dread of sleep, Baptiste leans on a side, propping himself up on an elbow, and meets his gaze.

“You outdid yourself tonight,” he winks playfully at him, their legs tangling in a lover’s embrace.

“I love you,” Akande says, and Baptiste’s smile grows wider before it falters. As if he could read his mind, Akande comforts him. “It’s okay. I’m here now.”

Baptiste buries his face in his chest and takes a deep breath. The musky scent of him calms him down as if it was the proof he needed to realize he’s really there. “But you’re leaving soon and I don’t want to fall asleep and wake up alone,” he confesses, feeling like a sore lover.

“You won’t, I promise.” Akande cups his face and reaches for his lips.

“When will you be back?”

“Missing me already?”

Baptiste rolls his eyes and nudges him. “These past weeks…” he sighs. “I thought maybe you had been in the area affected by the hurricane or something.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I mean, you just told me you were there, were you safe?”

“I’m fine,” Akande says. “I left before the storm hit and headed to Cairo, way out of its reach.”

“I could be helping there right now. The storm left quite a mess behind.” Baptiste’s gaze gets lost in the distance as the same thoughts that haunted him before Akande’s arrival come to remind him of his remorse.

“How’s the clinic holding up?” Akande asks.

“I haven’t talked to Roseline in a few days.” Baptiste falls slack on the bed, an arm over his head as he lets out a sigh. “They’ll be fine, I guess,” he says, peeking through to see Akande’s worrisome furrow appear between his eyebrows. He cares, but he can do nothing to appease what he feels. “Meanwhile I’m stuck here wondering where will the next mission take me, surely not a humanitarian cause or somewhere I’m needed.”

“Baptiste…”

“Nevermind.” He turns to face him again, his frustration can torment him once he’s gone but not on the one night they have. “Where are you going next?”

“Singapore.” Baptiste whistles playfully. “It’ll be quick, I promise.”

“Bring me a souvenir, the cheesier the better.”

Akande lets out a hearty chuckle, rolling on top of him and finding on his lips the sweet smile he’s been chasing since before he arrived. “We could have a place for us somewhere, you know?” Akande whispers against his mouth.

“Really?”

“Yeah, a flat where we can stay when we’re on shore leave or need to get away.”

“I’d like that.” Baptiste smiles, from his lips to the corners of his eyes.

“Wherever you want, just pick a city,” Akande says with a smug smile.

“I’m going to miss you, big guy.” Baptiste locks arms and legs around Akande’s broad frame and pulls him even closer. “But I’m not saying goodbye to you. Not this time. We’re together no matter where we are, right?”

Akande leans for a kiss and sighs. What has he done to deserve Baptiste? He came at the worst possible timing and yet he regrets nothing of this. He wishes he had known him sooner, before his life went to hell, before they both committed to a lonely mercenary life that’s not so lonely anymore. Before the war, the loss, and all they could have helped each other back then.

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Akande promises.

“Now, can I have a little revenge?” He rests his hand on Akande’s nape and breathes out against his mouth. “I kind of want to eat you up until you cry my name…” His lover grunts, and the recess is over in favor of more of them.

Baptiste saw him off later that morning not knowing it would be the last. A bad hunch settled in his stomach and lingered with him for days on end. It never happened. They never happened because in the blink of an eye he was gone, but gone for real. Everything he feared became true. His bed was empty and cold and Talon swallowed him deeper than before. Akande was trapped far away, in a place where he could never reach him: in prison.


	13. Chapter 13

Some dreams are not meant to be. He should’ve known already since he never joined Overwatch, he never proved himself as the hero he wanted to be, and the only man he truly loved is in prison. Baptiste realized way too late, but he won’t be fooled again. Hoping and dreaming was not for him, and he wouldn’t waste any more time trying to be someone else. But as of now, he’s stunned, paralyzed, and slowly sinking into quicksand.

He watched the news about what happened in Singapore. The streets turned into a warzone, buildings destroyed, the traffic stuck as Akande was cornered by Overwatch agents. He fought and lost, and the media streamed the whole thing for the world to see. Meanwhile, his own little world crumbled under his feet, Baptiste was stunned, his breath coming out short and fast. It couldn’t be but it was. They defeated Doomfist and took him away, snatched him from him when he thought he was untouchable, invincible.

Despite winning, Overwatch was blamed for the collateral damage of the arrest, and neither the United Nations nor the press would let it slip. He couldn’t care less; Akande was gone and he couldn’t find his taste on his lips. He wouldn’t be coming back home anytime soon and there was nothing he could do about it. Whatever they were and whatever they had was over so abruptly it knocked the air out of him.

Talon was shaken at first, but then things went back to normal really quickly. As if nothing had happened; as if the head of Talon hadn’t been imprisoned. Baptiste suspected the board wasn’t completely displeased since Doomfist had been adamant about doing things his way and taking control of Talon’s council. It was a matter of time that his ambitions would bury him in a hole that he couldn’t get out.

Intrigues aside, his heart ached for him. He waited for days and weeks hoping Akande would come back, that he would get out of this mess like he had done many other times, but incarcerated, he had no allies left to tend a hand to him. 

Baptiste had to carry on with his life as usual. He and his team were assigned a few extractions and escort missions. The big bugs were eager to meet and sort out what Akande had left behind; they shared out power and surely celebrated what they thought was a victory in disguise. Venice, Paris, Rome; to Baptiste, every city felt the same as he drowned in the dread nestling in his heart. Akande was gone, and there was no use in waiting for him anymore while the ties that trapped him to Talon stretched into a thin thread.

As soon as he was allowed, Baptiste went on shore leave and came to the only place that would soothe his broken heart: home. Port-de-Paix will always feel like a refuge to him. Helping out Roseline at the clinic even though it means working while he’s on vacation warms his heart with feelings of fulfillment; seeing his neighbors, the few friends that still would spend a night carousing along with him and the familiar lights of a city that saw him become a soldier way too early in life. 

He’s trying everything to banish Akande from his mind although he’s been unsuccessful so far. The crowded streets of his neighborhood make him feel better, but not even the scent of pork griot at the end of a hard-working day does the trick. His feet recognize the walk from the clinic to Lefort’s while his mind rambles. Why can’t this be his life from now on? A wry smile stretches on his lips when he realizes the truth: Talon wouldn’t let him even if he tried. If he escapes, he has to disappear for good.

Roseline was too tired to come with and it was too late to rope someone else in. Nevermind, he better get used to the loneliness. There are always patrons late at Lefort’s so he won’t -technically- be drinking alone. None of them will bat an eye if he gets smashed on his own, drinking his soul away. After weeks of sleepless nights, the first day working at the clinic tackled him in bed and he had a good night’s sleep. The worst was waking up the morning after when the sting of the pain is fresh and not numbed by hours of mulling over.

Baptiste needs a drink so badly his throat tightens. He is glad to be home, he actually feels as if he could heal, or at least close an open wound. Nothing will make him forget Akande, that he knows, but the fact that he can’t even talk to him rattles his nerves. If only...

As he enters the establishment, the noise of background conversations muffles his own gloomy thoughts. He hops up on a stool and pinches the bridge of his nose. He’ll also need to drown that incoming headache. Not long after, Lefort appears at the other side of the counter, drying up a glass.

“Papaya juice?” he croons, all-knowing. When they were kids, one of the happy memories of his childhood was coming here with Roseline and a few more kids and getting an ice-cold, and as sweet as it could be glass of papaya juice at Lefort’s. Long summer days playing outside and warm nights swathed by a feeling of tranquility that wouldn’t last. At least he was a kid once, even if it ended way too soon. “I haven’t seen you around here for a while.”

The statement brings him back to the present. “I always find my way back,” Baptiste smiles. “But I’d like something with a punch tonight.”

“Strong and sweet?”

“You know me.”

Before disappearing round back to prepare his drink, Lefort smiles fondly at him. If he noticed his rugged looks, unshaven beard, and the fake smile he didn’t mention them, and Baptiste was grateful for it and the drink that appeared in front of him moments later. Sweet, refreshing, and soaked in rum. Baptiste tips his drink to thank him, but his smile vanishes when Lefort turns around to tend to other customers.

Baptiste thought it would be easier, but the thought of drinking himself unconscious alone in his room seems more fitting than this. The laughter of the other patrons makes him realize how alone he feels without Akande. He never got the chance to bring him to Port-de-Paix and show him around. He never will.

Halfway through his first drink his phone buzzes in his pocket. _What are you up to, mijo?_ He slides it back into his jeans and downs his drink, signaling Lefort for another. Baptiste had no choice but to tell Sombra he’d be away for a few days, that he needed the calm of the island and the remainder of other happy things in his life. He appreciated her concern and Mauga’s but what he is going through, what torments him, leaves him inconsolable.

The freshness of the new drink washes through his throat like a blessing. It almost takes away the lump that set there the day he found out about his incarceration. His phone buzzes again and Baptiste lets out an annoyed grunt. _Don’t ignore me! I’m always watching._ He snorts out loud, setting the phone down on the counter to tame the urge to answer her and stop feeling so alone. He wants to wallow in self-pity after a whole day smiling at the patients of the clinic as if nothing was wrong.

“I told you not to ignore me!” Sombra nudges him on the shoulder and he winces. She has a gift for sneaking up on people. Baptiste’s countenance swifts from confusion to an apologetic smile.

“What are you doing here? How did you find me?” He slouches again on his seat, and Sombra leans on the counter and into him as a friendlier greeting.

“It’s not that hard to track a phone, you know?” She winks at him.

“Sombra!”

Lefort approaches just in time to interrupt Baptiste’s scolding. “I’ll have what he’s having,” she says, and in a moment, the owner slides a drink in front of her, this time with a tiny umbrella on top. “Charming,” she mutters, sipping at the beverage and wrinkling his nose in disgust at the sweetness of it.

“Why are you here?” Baptiste asks with a sigh.

“Checking on you,” she shrugs, “I didn’t know if you were coming back to Talon… -she squints her eyes- are you?”

“Still thinking about it,” he confesses out loud for the first time since he left the headquarters.

The idea of going rogue pops into his mind more often than not. He has the opportunity, the motive, and nothing ties him to the organization except money and a lifetime contract he was too young and naive to commit to.

“I have something for you,” Sombra says. Baptiste meets her eyes with curiosity as she continues. “Just a cell number. Not that we can do much about it.” Baptiste swallows thickly, his hands clutching to the slippery glass. “He’s in a maximum security installation protected by Helix Security International.” She says the last part in a funny tune.

“You have the location?” His voice wavers ever so slightly. “If Talon knows where he is…” He gets tongue-tied and takes a sip, seeking the courage to ask the next question. “Are they going to get him out?”

Sombra shakes her head. “They just won’t give the order.”

“Bastards,” Baptiste mutters.

“You said it, not me. My guess? They find him more manageable locked in a cell than out.” She finishes her statement with a roll of her eyes.

“So Talon put him in,” Baptiste whispers lowly.

“Technically, Overwatch arrested him.” Baptiste gives her the side-eye. “Or someone sore in Talon sold him…”

Akande had grudges in and out of the council, that was no secret. He liked to make his battles public so he could bask in the victory. Baptiste downs his drink again; rum, regret, and guilt hammering his head.

“You sure you got this?” Sombra asks, squeezing his shoulder.

“Just today,” he whispers in a harsh voice. “Let me wallow just today then I’ll pretend I’m fine and my man didn’t get busted.” Baptiste chuckles wryly, head hanging low over his shoulders. “You know what’s the worst part?” Sombra leans her back on the counter and locks eyes with Baptiste. They’re bleary and regretful, and no piece of information she can give him will make him feel better. “That he deserved it and I’m an asshole for saying it.”

She smiles. “He was no angel.”

“To me and my stupidity. Cheers.” Baptiste takes a long gulp and sighs, blinking away the sadness. “Any chance…” he trails off, knowing what he’s about to say is stupid. “Any chance they’ll get him out eventually?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Not anytime soon, huh?”

“He had more enemies than allies, and it’s convenient for now.” Sombra shrugs and watches Baptiste ask for another drink. If that’s what he needs, she’ll make sure he’s fine and as drunk as he wants, but not alone. “Are you quitting?”

“Hm?” Baptiste frowns.

“Your job.” She nudges him, raising her eyebrows.

“What?” Baptiste chuckles, shaking his head incredulously. “Sure, I’ll send my resignation letter first thing in the morning,” he jokes. “C’mon, you know mercenaries don’t quit Talon.”

“You’re not stupid. You could make it happen.”

She’s right. It would be a life on the run, never staying too long in one place, but he could escape Talon and give a shot at a different life. “But what if he comes back?” The words slur out of him with the help of alcohol. It’s stupid and naive, but what if?

Sombra sighs. “If, and that’s a big if, he gets out which I doubt, he’ll find you.” She takes a long sip and smiles faintly at Baptiste. “You can’t do this to yourself.”

Baptiste buries his face in his hands, groaning. “I can’t even talk to him,” he croaks. “I don’t know if he’s okay, how he’s dealing with the situation, if they’re treating him right.” Sombra rubs his upper back but it does nothing to tame his thundering heart. “My boyfriend is in a maximum-security prison and I’m far from fine.”

“I know, mijo.”

“Fuck,” Baptiste curses, sobbing and biting back the tears that well in his eyes. “I miss him, and this time is different.” He locks eyes with her and finds the friend he needed, the friend he should have confided into instead of running away to pretend what he needs is being alone. But if he leaves Talon, wouldn’t be he alone? “Because I know he won’t come back to me no matter how long I wait for him. Not this time.”

“I can’t tell you it’ll be fine, but you’ll be fine, Baptiste,” Sombra says with a smirk. “Maybe one day…” They share a knowing glance at an unpredictable future.

“Thank you,” he says. “I didn’t know I needed this.”

“De nada.” She winks at him before a sly smile stretches on her lips. “I have another surprise that just arrived... because I didn’t come alone.” Sombra beckons with her head behind Baptiste and as he turns around, Mauga’s jarring laugh fills the place.

“Hey, buddy! You didn’t think you’d run away from me, huh?” In two strides he’s at the other side and the warmth of his two friends envelopes him. “What do we drink here?”

“Fancy colorful cocktails with a ton of sugar,” Sombra mutters, sliding her drink in front of Mauga’s broad frame.

“Three of those, then!” Mauga hugs his shoulders and pats him lightly, a complicity smile on his lips. “No one should drink alone.”

“Thank you,” Baptiste mumbles, shaking away the need to be alone and escape his friends. Not now, not tonight. Akande may be gone, but he still has a lot to take care of in his life.

“You know what we need to lighten the mood?” Both Mauga and Baptiste stop bantering and stare at Sombra, awaiting her answer. “Tequila shots!”

Mauga barks a laugh, and Baptiste shakes his head. “No way. I don’t want to risk brain damage.”

“Nonsense! Six tequila shots, please!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! σ(≧ε≦ｏ)  
> Since we're reaching the end of the fic and there will be a jump ahead in time soon, I would recommend -if you haven't already- that you read Baptiste's short story ["What you left behind"](https://bnetcmsus-a.akamaihd.net/cms/gallery/MH2T6XNHIXXZ1560535557651.pdf) The fic follows canon events to the best of my knowledge, and even though I sum up what happens to Baptiste during those years you'll get a better grasp of the meaning if you read the story first. Also, this is my way of warning you that there will be huge spoilers of Baptiste's origin story next chapter! <3
> 
> See y'all next week! ~ヾ ＾∇＾


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seven years later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING! "What you left behind" short story spoilers.

Upon Akande’s incarceration, and after a much-needed respite at Port-de-Paix, all the urge to leave Talon faded. What if he got out? What if he came back to him as he used to? If he had left Talon back then Akande wouldn’t have known where to find him, and Baptiste was lost without him until he wasn’t anymore.

Months flew by and he realized that he couldn’t wait for him forever. Baptiste had to get away from this life instead of living off of memories of a man that wouldn’t return. Every spare time he could spend away from Talon, Baptiste would take it. Whether it was coming back home or volunteering where needed. That’s how he spent a week helping out in humanitarian aid efforts in Venezuela. The change of scenery helped, but the world kept going to hell in the meantime. The United Nations forced Overwatch to disband and made it illegal by the PETRAS Act. He never thought he would witness the downfall of his heroes while Talon grew stronger by the day. 

For a while, the experience put his mind at ease and Baptiste felt the joy of helping others, but as soon as he came back to the headquarters, he was swallowed right back in by the organization. It wasn’t enough. Baptiste wanted to own his future and he wasn’t scared anymore. The fear of losing Akande, being pursued by Talon or being unable to provide for the clinic turned into a different kind of fear: the fear of losing himself, of throwing his life away for the wrong reasons, the wrong cause, for a mistake that it wasn’t too late to fix. What was there to lose if the most precious thing had already been snatched from him?

A year later is still a mystery why Akande got caught or who betrayed him, but Baptiste suspected Talon had something to do with it, two council members in particular: Viali and Maximilien. Time and cynicism offered perspective, and he connected the dots. He also realized Akande succeeded in his plans even if he was put away by justice.

Chaos ruled everywhere, a second omnic crisis was imminent, and the world was on the verge of destruction similar to the war it endured two decades ago. Without Overwatch, Talon had free rein and there was no one with the resources to stop them. Baptiste witnessed the rise of Talon from the inside and felt disgusted by it. No one was safe from Talon, and they had no reason to hide since Overwatch was doomed the moment their main headquarters blew to pieces. It couldn’t have been Akande’s orders, but it surely served his plans. Wasn’t that what he was looking for? To destroy Overwatch and kindle a new war?

But it wasn’t until a mission in Monte Cristi went FUBAR that Baptiste realized two things: Akande would never get out of prison let alone look for him, and he couldn’t keep being Talon’s puppet. Baptiste cared too much and he was fed up with those selfish bastards. He had finally become what he most hated: a cold-blooded mercenary, part of the problem, the fuel of war and conflict while innocents died. He was better than that and he was tired of looking the other way. It was time to do what he was meant to do all along.

What was supposed to be a row between Talon and Playa Cartel became a blood-bath. They burned and tore the town and its people apart. It played in his mind like a nightmare from his past. That wasn’t the story he wanted to write. He couldn’t recognize himself nor what he had done. Up until that day, Baptiste had never seen his path so clearly in his mind.

He loved and lost; life was too short to pile up mistakes until it’s too late to make up for them. With the time he had left, he’d do something with his life, something different, something true to himself. Maybe one day he would look back and not frown regretfully upon what he had done. He wanted to be proud of his skills, put them to good use, to be more like the hero he pictured himself to be instead of just a nameless mercenary.

The last trial he faced that night was confronting Mauga. Baptiste was ready to fight for his freedom and flee Talon once and for all. Unexpectedly, Mauga let him go and covered for him. He saw in his eyes Mauga thought he was throwing a fit, that this was temporary and he’d come around sooner than later. But that was the last straw, the moment he knew deep in his marrow that waiting for Akande was futile, that Talon had forgotten him in the bottom of a cell and his heart was broken and unable to beat for the wrong reasons anymore. In his despair, he found the strength to set himself free.

Little knew Mauga back then that Baptiste would never come back and that instead, he’d become an active enemy of the organization. Thwarting Talon’s operations became his sustain. What he looted improved his equipment, the weapons, and resources he stole served other purposes far from Talon’s interests. Baptiste didn’t become exactly a hero, not what he understood a hero was, but at least every choice he made was his and his alone.

Staying away from the clinic and Port-de-Paix was the safest choice. He craved being home, but he would never endanger his friends and neighbors with his presence. Baptiste was on the run, never staying in one place for too long. He wanted to disappear; to lurk into the earth and die and silent death alone. He did just that, except for the dying part. He turned his rage into something productive, his sadness fueled him every single night he decided to risk his life entering a Talon’s warehouse or intercepting an operation. He dreaded to confront Mauga again, but that didn’t stop him from being a true annoyance to Talon.

His heartbreak froze in time. Some part of him missed Akande, needed to see him and confess one last time how much he had loved him; how much he still does. But he also hated him for leaving him alone and lost, for being the reason the world is going mad, for granting so much power to Talon only to fail, betrayed by them. If he had listened to him they could have run away together. Sometimes Baptiste fantasized about another life in which they are still together and happy, but his daydreaming died as soon as he opened his eyes and realized it’s over and he’s gone. Reality struck hard every time he wanted to dream and hope of the man he had lost.

Back then, Baptiste avoided reflecting on his life without Akande, free of Talon, of the love that doomed him to stay and then fueled him to leave. He focused on helping here and there, wandering the world and traveling light. It was a lonely life, teaming up with no one and always looking over his shoulder for uninvited trouble. He became invisible, hard to track. It even took Sombra a few months to reach him on his new phone. Baptiste ignored most of the messages knowing she was still in bed with Talon, but he trusted her enough to be grateful for her concern. He felt empty when he wasn’t busy, and it suited the inside too for he felt empty-hearted and lonesome whenever he’d go. His only source of happiness those days was visiting the clinic, and that’s a luxury he couldn’t afford often.

It took Talon two years to find him. Baptiste had taken countless operatives sent after him, but it wasn’t until he was staying in Tortuga that Talon had a real chance to kill him. A strike team sent to apprehend him almost succeeded, and that’s when he realized it wasn’t just Talon. The whole thing seemed too personal to be an official operation. He took down his former teammates and sent their dog tags as a warning to Captain Cuerva. After two years of stealing and making Talon’s life a nightmare, if the captain wanted revenge, he’d give him a chance.

Not long after the first incident Baptiste had Cuerva at gunpoint. He set the bait and Cuerva swallowed it. He remembered Monte Cristi, the many innocent lives he could have saved but didn’t, following his former captain’s orders. He pulled the trigger with no guilt or regret but a handful of emptiness and contained rage. It fixed nothing of what he had done, it gave him no truce, no peace, but it was done and he had no heart to feel guilty about it. That’s when he realized Talon would chase him for the rest of his life, but also that he was ready to fight back.

It’s been seven years since he and Akande shared a warm bed and their bodies. Five years after he stepped out of Talon’s headquarters for the last time, a handful of bad times and worse times, and Baptiste is finally free, determined to destroy the organization that stole a lifetime from him and lonelier than he’s ever been.

The opportunity presented itself again. The beast seemed dormant, but against all odds, escaped. Doomfist resurfaced even more powerful than ever if the recent events shaking the world mean something. Mondatta’s assassination, the attack at Gibraltar’s headquarters, the failed attempt at retrieving the fist from the Overwatch museum, and the unexpected death of Viali. Like missing puzzle pieces, they all fit together to welcome Talon’s former leader. Doomfist was in charge again and ready to finish what he started years ago.

As Baptiste wakes up in his hotel room, whatever nightmare that flooded his mind with memories of the past years on the run is nothing compared to reality stinging his eyes. Akande escaped months ago but didn’t come to find him, he probably didn’t even look for him, forgotten between four walls as a fond memory that surely helped him sleep at night. Baptiste is sure he means nothing to the man he gave his heart to selflessly. He’s Doomfist now, and Talon freed him to wreak havoc everywhere. He’s looking for the weapon he killed for, the fist that gave him his power once and will do so again. But it doesn’t matter now, because he’ll stop him even if it’s the last thing he does.

Baptiste throws a hoodie on as the heavy door of his room closes with a thud. Just a block down the street he enters a Kofi Aromo establishment. The scent of freshly made coffee awakens his senses and his stomach grumbles. Making a beeline for the registers, he takes his phone out and opens an encrypted app, typing a quick message into his phone - _I’m here_ \- and waits for his turn.

Waking up is usually like this. Lingering in bed would be an emotional suicide while getting up and keeping himself busy keeps him going. He buried his feelings for Akande so deep in his soul he thought he was finally over him. Turns out he’s still the same emotional mess after seven years apart. Akande is out and about, and Baptiste is sore that, even though he’s done a great job at disappearing for good, Akande hasn’t even tried to reach him. What was he expecting truly? That they’d pick it up where they left it? That words would fix the feelings of abandonment he felt? Nothing will. Akande will never abandon his ambitions for anyone, and Baptiste is not the same man. He’s older, hopefully, wiser, and he learned the hard way that loving someone is not enough; it’s never enough.

Baptiste sits in a booth avoiding the screens popping the same news in a row while he stares listlessly outside. The coffee mug warms up his palms until they’re clammy, but his heart beats steadily with determination. Whatever it takes to fix this, to put an end to what they once were, to avoid making the same mistakes again because of an undeserving lover. Although Akande is not the only one to blame in that regard.

“Hey.” Her voice startles him, but as he meets her eyes, a withheld smile stretches on his lips. “You look good.” Sombra slides on the seat in front of him, eyes gracing him with a once over. “It’s been a year already.”

Baptiste shrugs, taking a sip at his coffee. “Who’s counting?”

An awkward silence envelopes them. The friendship that used to be so easy going between them is so in the past Baptiste doesn’t know where to start. She’s been there for him when he needed, but it was a risk to trust her, a risk sometimes he couldn’t afford to take. Sombra is still a Talon agent and her loyalty could shift in the blink of an eye.

“I haven’t heard from you since I helped you with that little mess you got yourself into a while ago,” she teases.

“That was another Talon shitshow,” he mutters, remembering what happened.

“What about our other friend? Have you heard from him?”

Baptiste sighs as he shakes his head. Two years after he eliminated his former team and set a trap for Cuerva, Talon paid him another visit. He always wondered why Mauga wasn’t among the men sent to eliminate him, or if he had also left the organization. Nothing further from the truth; was not only Mauga still working for Talon, that he dared to come to Port-de-Paix, to Lefort’s not less, to find him and ask him a favor after all these years. As if he owed him after letting him go that fateful night at Monte Cristi. There was nothing friendly about his demeanor, his countenance or his companion, Nguyen. He knew them both all too well to lower his guard.

The deed ended better than expected for him, but it was also a turning point in their friendship. This time around, Mauga was determined to bring him back to Talon and felt betrayed when Baptiste refused and thwarted, once again, Talon’s plans. He had no desire to come back and an old friendship or a so-called debt wouldn’t convince him otherwise. Baptiste couldn’t allow it, not after years on the run. They parted ways, with an explosion in the middle, and something deep in his heart told him things would never be the same between them.

“If he survived, I bet he’s not happy about how things went down,” Baptiste says, meeting her twinkling eyes. He still can tell when she’s asking something she already knows.

“What about her? Have you kept in touch?”

Among the intel Talon was trying to retrieve, he recognized a familiar face. The face of a doctor he had been working with back in Venezuela. If Talon was after her because she was a former Overwatch agent, he needed to warn her, and Sombra lent a hand to him in that regard.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I did what I had to do and moved on.”

“Glad I could help,” she whispers playfully.

At first, Baptiste thought Mauga and Nyugen only wanted to bust him, but it turns out the operation was even bigger than that. He suspected something big had been cooking since he retrieved the dossiers of former Overwatch agents from the director of Sainclair Pharmaceutical’s greedy little hands. A former Overwatch agent that betrayed his own people to favor Talon. After saving the scumbag’s life and escaping his old teammates, he contacted Dr. Angela Ziegler about what he had found out. She deserved to know.

During the next year, Baptiste figured out what would happen in time to stop the most important Talon operation of the last decade. If anyone can stop Doomfist that’s him even if his heart trembles at the mere thought of confronting him. Overwatch is still figuring out how to resurface, besides, this is personal, so he’s on his own.

But to do so, he needs Sombra’s help again.

“I didn’t call you to reminisce,” Baptiste says, annoyed at old feelings finding their way to his heart again. If almost everyone from his past has turned against him, it is a matter of time Sombra does too, and especially now he needs to be wary. He hasn’t come so far without watching his step. “No need to catch up.”

“I’m your friend,” Sombra says, reclining back on the booth while typing single-handedly on her phone. Baptiste remains silent, and she lifts her gaze. “I mean it,” she whines.

“You’re still working for them.” Baptiste throws the truth in her face.

“I’m on my own, always been,” she says.

“That’s the lie you tell yourself to sleep at night?” Sombra rolls her eyes at his retort, but that doesn’t stop him. “It sure sounds a lot like the ones I used to tell myself.”

“I’m doing my thing,” she quips. “Let me do my thing, you’ll thank me later.” Sombra leans forward, lowering her voice. “Don’t forget what side I’m on.”

“Yours?”

“Exactly,” she laughs sharply. “Besides, haven’t I helped you before?”

Baptiste graces her with a half-smile. “Fair enough.” He seems to relax, his shoulders slacking slightly. It doesn’t matter if he trusts her or not, Baptiste needs her help or he won’t be able to find him. “I didn’t know if you would answer after I had to disappear.” He meets her eyes just as she arches a questioning eyebrow, her feet nudging his shin. “Okay, again,” a lopsided smile stretches on his lips.

“No worries, you can’t hide from me,” she winks. “But next time don’t let so long go by, okay?” Baptiste chuckles softly. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

“Same.” The friendly reunion ends with a frown on his part. She has too many ties to Talon, and her concern cannot make him lower his guard. Her loyalty could shift, and he needs to be careful if he wants to stop Akande although it may already be too late. “What do you have for me?” Her countenance turns somber and she sighs.

“Here.” Sombra rummages for something in her pocket and then slides a pen drive in front of him. “Are you sure?”

Baptiste takes it, weighing it in his palm. “I’m not asking for advice.”

“It’s free this time,” she says.

“Is where I can find him in here?”

“Everything. Schedule and all,” she reclines back again, wondering if she is sending him to a certain death by giving him this intel. “Not my business how you use it, anyone could have gotten that for you by digging a bit, but… I wouldn’t pick that fight upfront.”

Baptiste clutches the device into his hand before he keeps it in his pocket. “But I am.”

“So your boyfriend is out and you’re running to him?” Sombra says and Baptiste glares at her. 

“He’s not my boyfriend and it’s not about that,” Baptiste says between gritted teeth. “It took me too long to leave that life behind and I’m not jeopardizing my future because of him or anybody else.”

“When was the last time you two spoke?”

The night before he left for Singapur. That one night he felt complete and wholeheartedly loved. Sometimes it is as though he could still feel the warmth of his hands on his body, the tenderness of his kisses, the intensity of his lovemaking leaving him blessedly numb of pain and worries. The times when the world didn’t matter and he could pretend he didn’t care.

“I can’t remember,” he lies, and before Sombra can call him out on his bullshit he speaks again. “He wants another war, and I’m stopping him.”

“Maybe you can delay him,” Sombra snickers. “But what makes you think you can stop him?”

“I’ll infuse some sense in him, make him change his mind, or I’ll… I’ll kill him if I need to.”

“Don’t try or it’ll backfire,” she warns.

“Don’t worry, I’m not stupid.” Baptiste wonders how much can she pick up his inner turmoil from the fake sense of security in his words. “But I’ll stop him.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t reached out to you,” Sombra says, narrowing her eyes as she smiles slyly. “It’s not as if he hasn’t inquired about you.” Baptiste’s heart skips a beat and his gaze darkens. “Not that I said anything, we’re friends after all.”

“Has he?” It’s been months since he got out of prison and Sombra needed one call to find him.

“I don’t kiss and tell… and I’m certainly not getting in between whatever you two have.”

“Had,” he corrects her.

“But if you want me to, I could tell you what he’s been up to after he…”

“No,” Baptiste interrupts her, in case his feelings bloom again, or the pressure in his chest comes back, hinting he still cares more than he should. “Knowing where to find him is enough, nothing else matters.” He mutters the last part.

With that out of the way, Baptiste should go prepare for tomorrow. He’ll need to put the intel together and a plan besides facing the man that broke his heart and forsook him.

“Overwatch is back, you know,” Sombra says. “They might want you.”

Baptiste lets out a wry chuckle. “Some dreams you gotta stop chasing.”

“C’mon, you called me a year ago asking for help locating a former agent while you’ve been playing hero all these years?” Sombra retorts. “Why don’t you just cut the bullshit and join them?”

“I figured I could do more good on my own, so what? I warned Dr. Ziegler about Talon and the leaks, that’s all.” Baptiste fixes his gaze at the bottom of a lukewarm mug of coffee, his future has never looked so dark.

“And now you can hand them Doomfist’s whereabouts,” Sombra whispers, hoping to change his mind. Akande won’t change his plans for anything or anyone.

“I won’t rat him out,” Baptiste mutters. “I’ll do this myself.” He sounds too pissed and sore because deep inside he’s still hurting.

“Oh,” she croons. “So that’s what this is about.”

“You have no idea.” Baptiste stands, placing a friendly hand on Sombra’s shoulder. “Thank you, but I gotta go.”

“I know what you’re going to try,” she says, meeting his eyes. “Just be careful, he may not be so fond of you as he was.”

It hurts, but she’s right. “I’m counting on it,” Baptiste mumbles. Akande may have stopped loving him long ago, for all he knows he may have never loved him at all, but he’s not the same man, he has a purpose and works for what he believes is right. That’s something not Akande nor Talon can take from him; not anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to find the motivation these days to finish the last chapter. I don't want to write when I'm not in the mood because damn, I want to do right by the boys, they deserve it after so many words. It'll take some time, but I'll do it╭(♡･ㅂ･)و ̑̑
> 
> See y'all soon! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following a plan doomed to fail, Baptiste sneaks into Akande's safe house in Numbani to get some _payback_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO, I'M BACK! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> I said I'd finish this, and here I am <3 Thank you if you're still subscribed to the fic, hopefully, this update will cheer you up. This is a 4k chapter that will be followed by a ~10k chapter that's almost finished. If you want to wait until they're both up, you've been warned.  
> ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿
> 
> Also, We've been blessed by the talented @greenbitsy who has offered a Doomtiste meal worthy of a GOD. Please, give them love, share, RT, and enjoy this piece of art. [Link to Twitter](https://twitter.com/greenbitsy/status/1277255018022752256?s=20) It got me back into writing even though words were eluding me back then.
> 
> I'm also happy I waited to write this until I was 100% into it. It feels great coming back to a story that I love to offer closure and... porn, who am I kidding? xD
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm sorry about the typos, or strange wording. I am rusty after a 3-month hiatus.... but it'll get better in time. (∩︵∩)

Sneaking into the building proved to be easier than he expected. Not only did Sombra tipped him off Akande’s location but she also provided the schedule for the mission. According to it, he arrives on time to prevent a worldwide disaster. But Baptiste doesn’t want a direct confrontation on the streets of Numbani while Akande has the support of Talon’s operatives and havoc wrecks the streets. He’d be on the losing side more than he is now.

True to his eccentric tastes, Akande stays on the last floor, and by the looks of it, he made sure all the flats of the story are empty. Always so self-assured, he didn’t assign a security team to patrol the inside of the building. Baptiste had to avoid the well-guarded entrance and sneaked inside through an unguarded service door for which Sombra provided the entrance code. The complications will come when he confronts Akande, he knew getting inside wouldn’t be an issue. Akande likes working alone when possible and despises personal security. The love for his privacy is his weakness, and his imprisonment hasn’t changed that one bit. Who could blame him? There is nothing to fear in the city that saw him grow and become Doomfist. He had enemies here in the past, but as the head of Talon once more, there is nothing or no one who can stop him. 

The consequences of his actions hit him hard when he finds himself so close to his target. But Baptiste blames his ragged breath to the five floors of stairs he just left behind, along with his freedom if he fails. 

Baptiste ignores the front door of the flat and sneaks outside the hall’s window embraced by the darkness of a warm night; almost suffocating. A fire escape facilitates a short-cut inside the apartment. After fidgeting a few minutes outside the kitchen window, Baptiste silently enters the place one leg after the other. They were not expecting an intruder. Once he’s inside, the floor under his feet trembles, or perhaps his legs have turned into jelly as he realizes where he is and that there’s no going back now.

Akande can fend off single-handedly anyone who wants to hurt him, and there he is, defying the man that abandoned him years ago for a far-fetched dream he’s still chasing. A shiver runs down his spine but he closes the window and soundlessly makes his way through the silent apartment.

The lights are out, but his eyes are used to the darkness and he has studied the blueprints until he knew them by heart. There are two ways in or out, the front door and the window he came through that won’t be very useful if he needs to leave in a hurry. Unless he leaves now. Baptiste’s careful steps come to a halt. No one knows he’s here and no one needs to know. So close to Akande again and yet so far away, but how could he bear with himself if he gives up now? Akande needs to be stopped and no one would dare to defy him, no one knows where he is or what he’s about to do. Except for him.

The thought gives Baptiste a cold shudder, his heart thumping louder than the tic of an old clock in the middle of the night. As Sombra said, he could let Overwatch confront him. Would they imprison him once again? Does Overwatch even have the power and influence to do so? No, they don’t. Fear slips away as fast as it came while determination makes him clench his jaw and grit his teeth. This is between them and no one else.

Tomorrow the authorities will transport the coveted gauntlet to the Numbani museum. There is no time to warn whatever is left of Overwatch; no time to hold second thoughts or think beyond tonight. It’s all up to him now.

The place is seemingly unguarded and the front door unlocked. A withheld smile curls his lips upward at how Sombra served Doomfist on a silver lining. He has yet to understand the motives behind her actions. The hacker does nothing for free although she has done a few favors for him in the past. If they track this back to her, she could be in real trouble too, but that’s a risk he’s willing to take. 

Since Baptiste deserted from Talon he’s been driven by the urge to destroy them for all those years and dreams lost down the drain; for all the innocent victims that weren’t as lucky as himself. He has become a better person, or so he likes to believe, so he tries. Risking his life like he’s doing tonight wasn’t a choice, it is fate, destiny, the culmination of years fighting for what’s right and not somebody else’s interests. For five years, he’s been careful not to fall into Talon’s greedy hands and he’s been successful so far. This opportunity is too precious to pass on, but as he anticipated years ago, Akande will be his undoing. 

Only if he fails to stop him.

Suddenly, the weight of the gun he carries becomes heavier. Baptiste unclips the holster and closes a tight grip on the handle. Will he kill the man he loves? “Loved,” he breathes out as if the sound of his voice would make that statement true. His heart hammers in his chest as his feelings unfold and steal him of his common sense. But his feet guide him to the master bedroom as a whiff of a past lover shakes him from the inside out.

Nights of plying love, tight embraces, breathless kisses, promises whispered in a warm gasp, and the even warmer beating of two bodies so used to being one it ached to tear them apart. It all comes back in a rush to struck him senseless for a few seconds. He’s like a weakling still desiring what hurt him, who left, who never loved him enough to change his ways and give them a good shot at whatever they had. Because they had something otherworldly that slipped through their fingers.

An inaudible curse trembles on his lips, hand clammy around the grip of his gun. Baptiste lets the air out in a thin trail as he inspects the bedroom and realizes a slit of light seeps underneath the ensuite door. He found him.

Unsurprisingly, the bedroom is unnervingly tidy; even the half-opened covers of the bed offer a sight of pristine sheets ready to hug you in a chill before they warm up. A suit lays perfectly arranged in a nearby chair. No weapons, no phone or computer on sight. Impatience gets the better of him as he enters the room and the muffled noise of a stream of water reaches his ears. Perfect. He’ll catch him by surprise and unarmed. As unarmed as Doomfist can be when his fists are his most powerful assets.

Every ideal Baptiste has been fighting for fuels him and clashes with the pain of getting ready to kill the only man he truly ever loved. In a room full of him, of his musky scent and spicy cologne; a lover so missed and so hatred when he would wake up at night only to find out Akande was still gone and he was, anew, alone.

“Fuck,” Baptiste mumbles so quietly he cannot even hear himself as he glues his back to the wall, a hand holding his weapon, the other reaching blindly for the handle of the bathroom door.

But then the noise of the shower stops and his heart leaps. The sliding of a screen, the rustling of a towel, wet, naked steps approaching the door. Baptiste waits for the situation to unfold. He waits because this is a mistake and there is nothing he can do now; he waits because he has come here for one thing and it has nothing to do with being a hero or saving the world. 

The truth is like a slap in the face. He needed to see him one last time, or perhaps closure, revenge, another chance to feel alive and not a weeping mess. Is this for a greater cause or is this just about himself? Can he allow himself this after years on the run? He has hidden behind a mercenary life but now he can confront him and search for the answers his heart needs.

The faint light of the bathroom blinds him momentarily as a towering shadow comes inside the room. A white towel wraps low around his hips, contrasting with the most beautiful ebony skin he has ever tasted. The long sleeve shirt he wears is soaked in new beads of sweat while his head spins and his world trembles beneath his feet. The ravishing view knocks the air out of him, but the gun in his hand reminds him why he’s here for. He tightens his grip while his eyes roam an infinite muscular back. He’s as tall and big as he remembers, jail hasn’t maimed his brawny constitution, more like enhanced it. 

Well-defined muscles rip with his movements as Akande saunters his way toward the bedside table, seemingly unaware of the extra presence in the room. Until he suddenly stops. Baptiste’s eyes widen as Akande tenses up before he snaps. Too fast, too strong. He never stood a chance and yet he put himself in danger, in the hands of Talon, in _his_ hands.

_Same old Baptiste._

Submerged in complete darkness except for the residual light of the bathroom door left ajar, Akande spins on his heels and lunges against him. Baptiste lifts his arm and points his weapon at his enemy, but in the blink of an eye, he’s fully pressed against the wall, a forearm against his neck, stealing his breath away as if he could afford to spare any drop of oxygen. 

The barrel of his gun settles point-black against a well-defined stomach he used to know by heart. A body made to sin, forgetful moments spent worshiping its vast length while being worshiped in kind.

Baptiste notices his blood-shot eyes burning with unshed tears, his throat strained by strength always contained and now unleashed upon him. Words cannot find him, but his eyes do, and if this is the last thing he sees before he loses consciousness, so be it. There has always been beauty in Akande’s ruthlessness, in the deep furrow that creases between his eyebrows and the way his eyes sparkle with evil intentions. He has never met someone so sure of himself, so proud and determined even if all odds are against him.

Somewhere during the struggle, he babbles a name. His name. The towel falls unceremoniously at their feet and defenseless, Baptiste groans, confused and deterred by the self-sabotage he has inflicted on himself. On the verge of crying or fainting he smirks, eyes fixed on the sweet, plump lips that stretch in a grimace of sufficiency at him because he has won. Without a fight, Akande has won and he has failed miserably despite the gun he holds against him for he will not shoot.

Doubts if they really happened assault him. Seven years ago seem like a lifetime ago now. Who were they then? Who are they now? Ruthless black eyes glare down at him with not a pinch of the love he used to find in them. _He may not be so fond of you now_ , Sombra said, and he dismissed her warnings like a kid who wants to go out and play.

The pressure under his throat tightens. Baptiste struggles to get a lungful of air while drowning into those eyes that cannot recognize him. But then his eyes soften, his brows lift slightly, naively even, and his gaze turns glazy and almost forgiving.

“Baptiste,” Akande breathes out, loosening his grip enough for Baptiste to gasp for a sharp intake of air.

Akande was ready to send to hell whoever dares to attack him when he thought himself safe and ready to reclaim the world under his rule again. But who he finds behind his attacker brings back not enough fond and bittersweet memories of another life. Baptiste wearing sad eyes that used to sparkle as he laughed; the sultry smile that could make him do the unthinkable, those lips that slurred the language of love and prickled his skin with undeserving kisses. His Baptiste, who he had to leave behind, his only remorse for the past seven years. Guilt haunted him night after night at how they left so much unsaid between them. One day they were, and the next he was between four walls and no other contact to the outside world than a newspaper every now and then.

His lips press in a thin line, so many words wanting to leave his mouth, the same words Akande so badly wants to swallow back and never let out. Baptiste is the weakness he has tried to ignore, forget, and hide even from himself. Deep in his marrow, he knew they’d be reunited one day, but not even Talon managed to find the elusive Jean-Baptiste Augustin after he went rogue.

“Why are you here?” Akande mutters, knowing this is everything but a social visit. 

“You’re not easy to find,” Baptiste croaks, ignoring the dumbfounded question.

At his cheeky answer, the arm disappears, but a hand holds his neck in place while a thigh settles between his legs, rendering him useless. There’s no escape from Akande. He’s been fooling himself with a foolish plan just to see him again. It’ll cost him his freedom if not his life. All the years Baptiste spent on the run taught him nothing when the man that lifted him up to the skies menaces to let him fall again despite his firm grip on him.

“Why are you here?” Akande relays as if he cared nothing about the gun pointed against him. Baptiste reminds him. He nudges the cold metal against his front and feels Akande’s fingertips twitching on the scruffy skin of his neck. “You won’t shoot,” Akande grumbles.

“Tempting at most,” Baptiste retorts.

“Why? Answer me.” His cheekiness sparks memories of a man without rules and high morals. A man that made him fall so hard he actually felt fear.

“I’m the one with the gun.” Baptiste struggles to swallow, his throat dry. Akande shifts his fingertips over his skin as the reminder that he once belonged there. 

The gesture curls his stomach nice and warm. Memories of his hand on his neck, warm and big, while his mouth owned and devoured until he was out of breath. “You should be the one answering my questions.” Baptiste’s voice trembles with excitement, but he nudges the gun against him once more.

“Do you think I cannot kill you before I bleed out?” Akande whispers menacingly. “Is that what you want? Both of us dead?” He loosens the grip on his neck, betraying his own threats. His eyes, now used to the dark, discern what seven years have done to Baptiste. Weariness adds to the sadness in his eyes, more scars than he can remember, a beard that shapes the sharp edge of his jaw and steals away the boyish air he sported when they met. Beautiful as ever, finding in him as much hurt as he expected to find after their unsaid farewell.

“That’d solve one of my problems,” Baptiste smiles emptily.

“I don’t care how you found me,” Akande hesitates, lips pressing in a thin line as he measures his words. He does care, but it’ll be a waste of time to discuss it with Baptiste. “But I want to know why have you come to me.” He releases him and takes a step back, the darkness concealing his nudeness partly. He’s always presented bare to Baptiste, body, and soul. Akande is not the man to hide his ambitions or to speak in riddles.

Baptiste grunts, soothing his sore neck with a trembling hand while the other lifts and points at Akande with his gun. The finger isn’t even on the trigger and he has no intentions to shoot but he is angry. At him, at Overwatch, at those who set them apart before he could reel him in into abandoning his plans and following his shadow. As if he could ever…

“Shoot me if that’s what you want,” Akande mutters, hands closing in two tight fists. He steps forward again, prowling, dangerous. His forearms meet the cold wall at both sides of Baptiste’s head. “Shoot,” he repeats, piercing him with an unmerciful glare.

Baptiste grumbles a curse and averts his gaze. The thud of his weapon falling on the floor deafens the room. But they breathe for the first time tonight, for the first time in five long years. A shared gasp of relief, and want, and so many things that wrap in a twirl around their hearts. “Not again,” Baptiste pleads, but before he meets his eyes anew he knows he’s falling. “You have no right.” Anger whirls within him as Akande gets closer, and he slams a fist against his chest in a futile attempt to stop him.

There’s still enough room between them to miss his touch. Baptiste unfolds his hand and feels damp, warm skin underneath. His heart thumps steadily as he meets his eyes. His breathing is under control but his chest hitches with contained emotions just once. It’s been too long but they could never forget, never leave behind what they had. The burning acceptance they shared, the way they learned to ignore the world and feel each other beyond the ideas that defined them. It couldn’t last forever either, that Baptiste knows.

Baptiste releases a shaky breath, uselessly trying to push away the mountain that looms over him with longing. If he cannot kill him he’ll have to convince him to give up this nonsense. It’ll save them both of more hurting.

“There were easier ways for us to meet,” Akande says, unmoving. His voice sounds like it does in his dreams, and Baptiste scoffs, allowing himself a tiny moment of relief for all those years apart when a caress like this would have been enough to ease his mind. “But that’s not why you’re here,” Akande continues, “you’re a vigilante now.” He smirks in a mixture of pride and annoyance. “I know everything you’ve done to try to stop Talon.”

Baptiste frowns. “I did stop Talon, on several occasions.” Akande chuckles and Baptiste realizes how oblivious this man can be when he has his mind set on his goals. “I know what you want and you won’t have it,” Baptiste says.

Akande leans forward. “You have no idea what I want,” he says, breathing every word into his mouth, their lips so close it’d be so easy to part them and taste the vocal accent of his voice in his tongue. Baptiste lowers his gaze, averting the scrutinize of his eyes and finding a sheepish smile. “Have you thought of me?” Akande asks.

“More times than I would like to admit,” Baptiste mumbles.

“I didn’t forget about you.” Akande nuzzles against his cheek, taunting him with a kiss Baptiste didn’t know he needed, wanted, and now aches for with every fiber of his being.

He would get it if he just tilts his head aside and brushes their lips together. “No,” he gasps. “I’m here to stop this, stop you.” He ignores the mellow words that intoxicate his mind and tell him that all these years he was missed and thought about by the man he still loves with an aching heart.

“Stop me from what?” Akande exhales a throaty chuckle against the shell of his ear, but Baptiste pushes him away. Akande meets his gaze from above, eyes brimming with want at having him at arm’s reach.

“From making the same mistakes that put you in jail seven years ago,” Baptiste retorts. His hand feels clammy against Akande’s warm skin. “See reason, Akande,” he says. “What you’re about to do is madness, and this, us -his voice trembles slightly- this is madness too.”

“I’m here to retrieve what’s mine,” Akande answers as though the only truth in the world was his.

“And start all over again?” Baptiste quips. “It cost you your freedom.” He hesitates because appealing to reason has never worked with Akande. 

“I’ve taken my freedom back,” Akande grunts angrily, “and I…”

“What about how much it cost us?” Baptiste interrupts him, letting the pain seep through his words for the first time in years. “Are you willing to risk _everything_?”

His words stab him unmercifully, but won’t prevent him to finish what he started. “I’m not asking you to understand, never have,” Akande mutters.

“You never explained either,” Baptiste retorts. Flashbacks of old conversations come back to him in a rush. Perhaps they truly are the same, Akande a warlord with too many ambitions for the world to handle, and he a naive boy still irremediably in love with him.

“There is nothing to explain. It is what it is, I am Doomfist.”

Baptiste clenches his hand into a fist and peels his back off the wall as if Akande would listen to him the closer he gets. “That damn fist isn’t you!” he shouts in his face, scared of finally breaking the walls he built around his heart. “I know it,” he whispers, teary-eyed despite his own anger spitting what he wished were true.

“You don’t want to get in the way of this.” Akande pushes him against the wall, pressing the heaviness of his body against him in a delightful cage of bulging muscles. His hands spread on the cold wall but he finds the place he still belongs to.

“I won’t let you steal that fist again,” Baptiste says, unable to fight the oh-so-missed touch of his lover.

“Can’t steal what is mine by right.”

“It never was,” Baptiste quips, both hands spreading like fans over his chest as if he wanted to push him away. But he slides them both up to mold his shoulders, bringing them both even closer in a forbidden embrace.

“I mean _you_.”

Overly aware of Akande’s body, Baptiste’s cock twitches at the suggestion, but his weathered heart refuses. “I was never yours.” He moves a hand to cup the back of his neck, fingertips trying to find a hairline that isn’t there, recognizing the spot he liked to kiss first thing in the mornings or to bite in the midst of sex.

As if Akande could read his thoughts, he smiles sheepishly. “Still such a bad liar,” he says, grinding against him in a full-body caress. He minds nothing of his hard cock in display against his rough clothes, of his thumping heart asking him to beg this man for a taste of the leftovers of the love they used to share.

It’s been too long to count the days without him. Baptiste mumbles a curse. He wished he could peel his garments off at will only to be fully pressed against a naked Akande once more. Feeling him skin against skin, shrouded by their lies and loneliness. He cannot want him but he does, and his lips part in a gasp, his steady breathing brushing his skin, his arms bracketing his frame, and the sweet bodyweight that drove him mad in bed trapping him just right again.

He’s torn between reason and memories of lust and love. It’s so hard to find both in one man and then lose them unexpectedly. They hold their embrace for as long as they need, but Baptiste breaks their silence when the past slams back again.

“You left me behind,” Baptiste whispers, holding onto him as if the past seven years hadn’t happened. Words bubble in his throat, the ones he had wanted to tell him back then, the ones he repeated every night he drank himself to sleep.

“It wasn’t my choice.” It’s not an apology but not an excuse either. It’s still not enough to tame the sadness. Akande knows. “If I hadn’t been locked away I would have looked for you.”

“You didn’t when you got out.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Akande’s eyebrows crease in frustration. “I’ve sent looking for you from Port-de-Paix to Tortuga and a dozen more places. I’ve been following a five-year-old lead and I got nothing. You disappeared.”

And yet Baptiste wanted to be found because that would have meant he still had feelings for him. “Well, here I am,” he retorts. “Alive and kicking.”

“Why are you here if you didn’t’ want me to find you, Baptiste?” Akande whispers, hopeful to hear the words that seeped through his heart once. “Is it about us? Will you join me once and for all?” It’s a far-fetched idea for a happy ending that he doesn’t deserve. Akande wanted to find Baptiste to protect him, knowing the price Talon had put on his head, but after weeks of no news not even from Sombra, he started thinking Baptiste was dead or worse.

“I’ll never follow you in this endeavor. You want war and I’m done being Talon’s puppet.”

The harsh words snap him out of his reverie, but Akande smiles. Baptiste hasn’t changed at all despite the new harsh edges, the rebellious side that finally comes through to mold the world in the shape of his dreams. “And I won’t let you stand in my way,” Akande answers.

His hand finds Baptiste’s side, the one he has tickled many mornings to wake him up for a goodbye kiss. His lean, muscular body shudders under his touch, and he slowly fondles his way up until his thumb finds a perked nipple and a heaving chest. Baptiste answers the call like a rookie, his cock filling up with fantasies of what he wishes would happen tonight.

“Let’s ride this night as if it belonged to us,” Akande whispers into his mouth, a shameless grin pulling at the corners of his mouth.

Baptiste closes his eyes, unyielding. His legs won’t cooperate in getting him out of here. His heart won’t beat any slower and his mind will soak up Akande’s intoxicating lies. What was he expecting? What else would they be except for the only thing they’ve been truthfully all along? 

Lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ ˂ᵒ͜͡ᵏᵎ⁾✩
> 
> Next week, I promise smut, lots of smut, and the completion of this story. It won't be short (I already have 8k down) but I hope it will be enough to wrap this up with a bang. Expect something bittersweet but no angst <3
> 
> See y'all soon! (∩｡･ｏ･｡)っ.ﾟ☆｡’`


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally!!! *happy dance* (۶ꈨຶꎁꈨຶ )۶ʸᵉᵃʰᵎ  
> I fixed a mistake I made in the last chapter. Akande is imprisoned in 2070 (7 years ago) and Baptiste left Talon in 2072 (5 years on the run). I mixed these two dates by accident >_<  
> Again, I apologize for the typos. English is not my mother tongue and I have no beta (and I'm rusty after so many months)
> 
> Long chapter ahead! <3 (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

“Let’s ride this night as if it belonged to us,” Akande whispers into his mouth. “As enemies,” Akande continues, “as lovers, as everything we were and cannot be.” He lifts his chin with his knuckles, thumb stroking his bottom lip emulating the promise of a kiss. “We deserve one night, Baptiste.”

“You _want_ one night.” Baptiste’s will fumbles between his common sense and the need for him. “You’ve always wanted one night with me. That’s what we were, what we did because the world would always end the next morning.” His heart hammers against his chest at every beat. He was the one abandoned in a cold, empty bed too many times. “One damn night to fuck and forget.” Those are the lies he’s been telling himself; that they were nothing, that it was just sex, but not even now can he believe them. Although he hopes they hurt him.

“I want every night with you,” Akande mumbles. “You are everything to me.” He tilts his head aside, ready to assault and conquer, to win a long-lost war. “My only weakness… because without you in this world I’d go mad.”

Baptiste closes the distance between reason and madness and dives into his offering mouth, regretting his decision right before their lips melt into one desperate kiss. But the taste of his mouth, the warmth of his body, the wetness of an eager tongue make him forget his name. “What you do to me,” Baptiste whispers, a thread of saliva joining their lips before Akande bites into his mouth with a muttered groan.

He takes, invades, and assails with a hunger that curls his stomach nice and warm. Baptiste moans into his mouth and yields until the kisses turn heady and deliberate, encompassed between pants and short breaths. It has never been tamed between them, wild and unrestrained instead.

Baptiste bites his lower lip and sucks into it, starving for more. “Bite me all you want. It’s worth having your lips on mine again,” Akande teases, his smile freeing him from Baptiste’s kisses. He feels good and right, like the home he never had or the place he never belonged.

“You always liked whispering pretty lies.” Baptiste tightens his embrace and searches for his mouth again. “And I’m still a fool for believing them,” he whispers before he seals their lips.

They lose control of their hands and their mouths, kissing madly in a dark unknown room. As though Akande had been on a mission for just a few weeks; as if the world isn’t bleeding by Talon’s actions; by this man’s actions. But the only thing that matters now is them and the farewell they never had.

Akande slides his hands underneath his tight shirt. He gasps for air in between kisses, forbidding himself to stop in case this is just a treacherous dream. And what a dream. He skims sure fingers up Baptiste’s spine, feeling the sweat of his skin, how he prickles under his touch, and how he rocks his hips against him to find some kind of relief. They never had an issue working each other up as soon as they landed hands on each other. It was the only easy thing back then, surrendering to him, letting go in his body while sipping sweet nothings out of his mouth.

Akande chuckles from sheer glee and Baptiste shuts him up angrily with an open-mouthed kiss. “I can’t…” he gasps. “I can’t do this,” he relays with spit-licked lips before he joins their mouths again.

“So you’ve said,” Akande teases, cherishing every gentle kiss or angry bite.

“It’s stupid and it makes no sense.”

“You make sense.”

Baptiste halts his ministrations so he can think. “Tonight, but tomorrow you’ll forget us.”

“Never, just…” Akande gasps, cupping his head with gentle, big hands. “Please,” he whispers, meeting his gaze. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you. How much I’ve wished to see you and touch you when I would see no one for weeks on end…” Baptiste grabs his wrists to shake himself out of his hold, but Akande continues. “It was our memories that kept me sane,” he confesses. “The foolish glimpse of hope that we would meet again; that I would be able to tell you that…”

Baptiste shushes him, teary-eyed and fearful to listen to what he’s saying. He wants him and loves him and there’s no point in denying it from himself any longer, but he cannot betray who he is, not because of their love, not again.

Akande ignores his plea for silence. “I love you, Baptiste,” he whispers into his mouth, fingertips skimming across his nape and giving him goosebumps. “Despite everything, I’ve loved you all along.”

“Stop,” Baptiste mumbles, but it sounds like a sob. It hurts because it is everything his stupid heart wanted to hear.

“Don’t go.” Akande presses their lips together and leaves him room to breathe.

“How could I leave now?” Baptiste says, letting out a broken chuckle. “When you’re here…”

Akande pulls him into his arms again, and Baptiste yields so effortlessly his heart weeps for how he abandoned him; the pain he caused him consciously and unconsciously. And yet Akande knows he’d do it all over again. At least now he can soothe him, reassure him, and perhaps one day, Baptiste will forgive him for what he has done and what he will do tomorrow.

Following this track of thought, Akande sobs in the middle of their kiss. “Don’t leave.” 

“I’m not,” Baptiste whispers. “You’re the expert on that, remember?” He kisses the crook of his neck, wrapping both arms around his frame, lips stretching in a sad smile.

They both know the one leaving tomorrow will be Akande. Baptiste also realizes he’ll have to steal the fist first if he wants to save him from himself. With his mind made up with a new sketchy plan, Baptiste brushes their lips together how he used to do right before Akande would wake up in a whirl of desire. His blood boiling for more at every tender swipe of his tongue. He finds the taste of his own tears, perhaps theirs; shared tonight after a lonesome fate they’ve been both trapped in until now.

They share a knowing glance, an oblivious one even for they never needed to dwell in the pain to acknowledge it. It’s left behind in favor of a moment, an insignificant amount of time they get to call theirs. Hours, minutes, they’ll cherish every single one of them until they’re gone and reality strikes back with unmerciful precision.

“One night?”

“For starters.” Akande grins.

Baptiste pushes his worries to the back of his mind and opens his mouth to him. He revels in his exploring hands and sways his body against a gloriously naked Akande. Was there a time when he didn’t want him or it was just a lie? A familiar hand sneaks between them, stroking his cock over his trousers. He gets even harder, letting out a desperate whimper. They’re done talking about things that escape their control.

“Wanna fuck me?” Akande teases, masking his fantasies with a tricky question that needs no answer. “You know how I like it,” he whispers, squeezing his hard length. Akande brushes the shell of his ear with his words. “Make it rough, be angry at me. I deserve it.” The hint of a smile tinges them with playfulness.

Baptiste bites back a moan. “And if I don’t?” he quips. A bluff he won’t follow through.

“Then I’ll take charge, pretty boy.”

The endearment churns his stomach but warms his heart. Before more memories stand in between them, Akande unbuttons his pants and pries open his fly, sneaking his fingers in the tight space to feel the warmth and the wetness of his underwear. Baptiste doesn’t stop him. “You want it as much as I do.”

In the next breath, Akande peels himself off of him, walking backward to the bed. His impressive erection stands firmly in the air as the perfect invitation for a feast. Baptiste’s eyes flicker everywhere with hunger and anticipation, his trousers slacking around his hips. Unable to bear the heat of his clothes, he lifts the hem of his shirt above his head and tosses it aside. A cold waft gives him goosebumps while the sight of his lover makes him thirsty. What is there to consider when blood rushes down his body instead of where he needs it the most?

Akande wraps a hand around his cock and strokes at a leisurely pace. Baptiste lowers the hem of his boxers until he can take himself in hand and mimics him, his upper back leaning back on the wall, his lips parting in a moan of relief. He already misses the touch of his body, but for now, he gives in to the sight. He’s about to spill his unfulfilled fantasies just by watching him, legs spread as Akande sits on the edge of the bed and looks back at him unabashedly.

The light of the bathroom offers a delightful sight of tight muscles enhanced by the shadows they cast. His balls tighten and Baptiste wraps his cock in a fist, a clear spurt running down his knuckles. This mouth-watering man is his utmost temptation. It makes him sin over and over no matter the circumstances. But there are worse things than being a sinner.

He hasn’t desired other lovers as he does him. Again and again, he tried to forget him on other people’s skins and mouths, in stranger’s beds and dark clubs. But nothing compares to what they shared, to the way sex melds between them like a cozy blanket, offering the sweet comfort of being loved back.

Baptiste saunters his way toward him, eyes fixed on Akande’s until they’re an inch apart. Akande buries his face in his belly, pressing dainty kisses and unintelligible whispers. He wants him. He’s always wanted him. Not the powerful man, the deadly assassin or Doomfist. Him; Akande, weak with desire, ready to plead to get fucked raw, willing to give and take beyond measure. That’s the man he loves, the one that laughs from deep down his chest and kisses you as if he meant it because he does.

Baptiste wets his lips, cupping Akande’s face and turning his head up to meet his gaze. His thumb slides into his mouth and Akande latches on it, his hand back to his cock for a long stroke. He wants him, and he’ll have him. He takes another look at Akande, his shaved-clean head, his plump lips, his heaving chest, and his dripping cock. A formula for disaster.

“Get on your hands and knees.” The corner of his mouth curls upward in a cheeky smile.

“Now we’re talking.” Akande turns around in a smooth motion, a wolfish grin baring his teeth.

While watching him, undressing any further is the last thing on Baptiste’s mind. He leaves his trousers and boots on as he climbs up the bed behind him, grabbing both cheeks with his hands. A shameful growl reverberates in his chest, and his cock twitches in the trap of his boxers.

He kisses the dimples of his back and the lush curve of his spine. Baptiste runs his tongue following the dip of his shoulder blades and revels in the whole-body shudder that courses through Akande. He presses a smile on his nape. Akande is still a kitten hidden underneath the thickest skin. Baptiste fondles big, toned muscles that now seem far from intimidating when moments ago held onto his life.

“Still gorgeous, big guy,” he teases, whispering right into his ear. “Maybe I’ll convince you not to be a stubborn ass.” Baptiste kisses the corner of his smile.

“Not a chance.”

Baptiste notes how Akande squirms below him, searching for his mouth, so he pleases him, returning the way he came but twice as slow. He leaves open-mouthed kisses everywhere on his back, trying not to find new scars or recognize the old ones. Tonight is a night for open wounds to heal, or so he hopes.

His hands move instinctively toward his butt cheeks, and Akande lifts his ass in a sexy cat-stretch that hints how much he wants this. Baptiste spreads him wide and dives in with a wet, eager tongue. Akande’s sensual moan steals a smile from him before he twirls his tongue around his hole, hands squeezing his firm glutes.

Determined to get him wet and ready, Baptiste gives him the most aggressive rim job of his life, licking and teasing, a taught tongue darting in and brushing back and forth his hole. Akande’s a mess already, with two spit-licked fingers up his ass and his mouth agape against the soft pillows. His cock leaves a clear trail on the bedding, but desperate as he is, he finds himself unable to stop him, just relishing in the never-ending ministrations of fingers and tongue. Better than arguing who’s right or who’s wrong.

“Baptiste.” His name escapes his lips like a treacherous plea.

Far from stopping, Baptiste slides a finger inside him along with his tongue, the hem of his boxers straining his neglected cock. The moment he’s inside him, he’ll blow, so he can only prolong this by eating him with wild abandon. He’s been at the other end of this sweet torture too many times, knows how his man loved to make him beg and squirm before filling him to the brim with his thick cock. He’s determined to remind him that he can also make him tremble.

Lost in thought, lips swollen and spit-licked, Baptiste catches something from the corner of his eye. Akande throws a packet of lube at him. It bumps on his arm and falls on the mattress.

“Were you expecting company tonight?” Baptiste arches an eyebrow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“None but my own,” Akande mutters, glancing at him over his shoulder.

“No condom?” Baptiste stares at him, reaching for the packet of lube.

“I want you bare,” Akande says. “I know who you are and I know what I want.” Baptiste sighs, a sweet smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Unless you’re not comf…”

Baptiste lashes his tongue on him again, from his balls to the end of his spine. “Whatever you want, big guy,” he says, biting him softly while ripping open the packet, lube slipping carelessly in between his fingers. “I trust you.” The endearment rolls off his tongue so easily it scares him, but he pays no mind to one tiny slip of the tongue when he’s about to fuck the brains out of his ex when he was supposed to stop him from rampaging the city in the morning.

With his free hand, Baptiste lowers his trousers and boxers to his knees, wishing he had taken them off earlier. Now it’s too late to pause the fun.

“Yes,” Akande mumbles when lube-slicked fingers slide in and out of him. He braces himself on his forearms, forehead pressed against the pillow while Baptiste makes quick work of stretching him open.

Baptiste fingers him with impatience, wanting nothing more than to see Akande coming undone one more time; one last time. “No more,” Akande groans. “I want you.” His plea is answered by a sudden emptiness.

Baptiste coats himself in lube and discards the empty wrap somewhere on the bed. He cleans his hand on the sheets and scoots closer until the length of his cock rests in between Akande’s cheeks. It all seems like an unbelievably real wet dream, except this will have consequences in the morning. Consequences he cares nothing about as his erection swells and the tip of his cock shoots a clear spurt on Akande’s tailbone.

“Fuck,” Baptiste mumbles, hands reaching to grope his hips. Baptiste pushes his knees apart, the bundle of clothes pooling at his ankles and giving him much-needed freedom of movement. He prods with the tip of his cock against his hole, surely testing Akande’s lack of patience. The groan that comes out of his mouth pulls the strings in his groin just the right way, and he teases him some more, pushing but not breaching in, sliding in between the slick trap of his butt cheeks. 

Hanging on the last thread of self-control available in him, Baptiste licks his way up Akande’s exposed spine, puffing a hot breath right at the base of his nape. The weak spot he liked to bite and kiss amid sex. Sweat starts to form in little beads on top of his velvety skin, and he licks them all with thirst he hadn’t known until this very moment. Weeks, months, or years, Baptiste realizes Akande tames a hunger that nothing else can.

“I came here to stop you, not to fuck you,” he whispers as if he could do anything to restrain this man that so readily bends over for him. “I guess I’ll have to settle for both.” Akande chuckles, but his body twists, and his hips roll upward when Baptiste’s cock slides back and forth across his rim, teasing but not giving him what he hankers for.

Akande grunts in annoyance. “Hurry.” One night won’t quench years of need.

“You’ve missed me, big guy?” Baptiste bites the lobe of his ear while his hand reaches down for Akande’s cock. He coats his palm with the pre-cum at the head and strokes him. He’s so hard it takes him aback, a clear trail pooling on the bed as soon as he starts pumping his dick in a loose fist. He’s so long and thick he regrets not being the one pampered tonight.

“Get inside me,” Akande grumbles, hips rocking shamelessly. Baptiste spares a handful of kisses over his shoulders, moving his hand to nestle his balls; tight and ready to shoot just like his own. Akande buries his face on the pillow to muffle a moan, his body an inch away from rolling over and riding his teasing lover to completion. “Hurry.”

“I want you to come the first time my cock fills you up,” Baptiste mumbles between kisses, squeezing his sac gently, biting hard muscles on his way down. “Then I’m going to keep fucking you.”

“Get on it already,” Akande growls, grabbing Baptiste’s hand and guiding him to fist his cock again. They both stroke him in unison until Akande grips his hand and stops, fearful to come before the fun has even started.

Baptiste shushes him between chuckles, giving one last tug to his erection before aligning his cock with his lubed hole. The tip slides right in with a push of his hips. His lips part in a gasp of relief but despite the urge to bury himself balls-deep inside him, he stills. “How’s that?” Akande’s hole tightens around him, trapping him halfway in.

“Move. Fuck me,” Akande pants, hands turned into fists. Deadly fists that seem so harmless now.

Despite the blatant plea, Baptiste strokes his sides and moves in short thrusts back and forth, letting him adjust to the intrusion for a few more moments.

“You can’t be this hungry,” he teases, soothing his lover with tender caresses. “Don’t tell me you haven’t found someone to warm your bed.” The thought of him with other lovers hurt slightly less if he pretends he doesn’t care. Even though he has fucked guys now and then, even looked for him in other men’s arms to no avail. “I can’t be that hard to replace,” Baptiste mutters, hurting by his treacherous thoughts.

“No one,” Akande says, trying to push back to fuck himself with his hard cock and finding Baptiste’s grip in the way. His hands tighten around his hips while he remains unmoving. “What was the point of having someone else when I only wanted you?”

“Liar.”

Akande braces himself on his hands, looking back at him. “Why would I lie now?”

Baptiste slides into him in a seamless glide, lube easing the way, his body remembering what it feels to own the only man he ever loved. _Even if it’s just this once_ , he wryly thinks. He leans forward, sheathed to the hilt, watching the lust pool in Akande’s black pupils as soon as he’s sheathed to the hilt. “Because that’s what you do,” he mumbles, kissing softly his temple. “Whisper pretty lies…”

“Not to you.” Akande nuzzles against his cheek, struggling between lust and love. He’s so close and yet so far away his heart weeps the loss nonetheless. “There hasn’t been anyone because I want you, Baptiste.” That’s the way he loves. The world fades, other people are but blurry faces except the one he truly sees. It’s always been like this for him, blind to others since the moment they met. “You have to believe that or I…”

Baptiste takes his mouth at the same time he thrusts into him, drinking a sweet moan directly from his lips. Lies or not, he believes Akande when he bares his heart at him. Akande feels like home, tight and warm, unbearably sexy as he moans for more of his cock. Baptiste pulls halfway out and comes back in a gauged thrust.

“Baptiste,” he whispers, almost pleading him to acknowledge his love or to fuck him harder.

“I do, big guy,” Baptiste murmurs against his mouth, trapping his lips in a wet kiss. “I believe you.”

His heart swells with love while his cock fills inside him, his hips rocking gently as they feel each other after so long. They may have changed, but their bodies remember, their hearts remember; they were and they are once more.

Baptiste releases his mouth, a hand pressing his upper back until Akande’s chest rests against the mattress, an arm stretched ahead, grazing the headboard, the other fisting the sheets.

“That’s it,” Baptiste praises, pushing him down with a single hand. He anchors his knees on the mattress and slams back in, groaning from sheer pleasure as he strokes in and out of him as though he couldn’t help himself. “I’ll take care of you.” Sweat form beads on their skin, eyes fixed on the twitching muscles of his back, the pulsing of his hole around his girth. 

Baptiste gives in to unleashed fantasies, grasping Akande’s hand, fingers seamlessly intertwined as he speeds up his pace. Noises of flesh against flesh fill the room, muffled by his heavy breathing and Akande’s groans of pleasure.

He wants to tell him how good he feels, how tight and welcoming his body is, but he’s tongue-tied, lips sealed and eyebrows furrowed. He pistons his hips and watches his cock disappear into him over and over, his legs slapping his cheeks. But Akande holds his onslaughts stoically. Baptiste presses his sweaty forehead on Akande’s upper back, fucking him in short, quick thrusts before burying himself as deep as he can, pushing just a tad deeper.

His relentless tempo has Akande hard as steel, his cock leaking every time he brushes past his prostate and sends a rush of joy and pleasure through his body. How could he forget what it was to be with him? Fingers or toys have nothing against being bested by Baptiste, unable to move or think when his heart beats at his lover’s will.

“More,” Akande grunts, knees trembling, his hole squeezing that glorious cock to keep it right where it belongs.

Baptiste releases his hand, sweaty chest against his back, gliding together in a rhythmical back and forth that has nothing of tamed or distant anymore. They know each other better than that. This has always been their moment, when nothing else mattered and they were free to fuck each other for as long as the night lasted.

Reaching for Akande’s length, he strokes him frantically, unable to follow with his hand the deep, hard pace of his cock. His balls draw up tightly as they slam against him over and over.

“Yes,” Akande moans, his body following Baptiste’s movements, reveling in the fullness he feels when he bottoms out, the jolt of pleasure that tightens his groin and coaxes out of him moan after groan.

The lack of air as he realizes he’s holding his breath fogs his mind, Baptsite’s hand holding his swollen cock for dear life, his dick splitting him open at every measured thrust. Everything turns into a frenzy very similar to the one he loses himself in combat. Akande feels too much and nothing at the same time, he is in control but also free of burdens or rules. Baptiste is the only person that has drawn that kind of blissful obliviousness out of him.

The sensation of being right about to fall off a cliff invades Baptiste, and one moment he pulls out and grunts in frustration, and the next he’s shoving himself back into his lover and emptying his balls inside him. And Akande is falling with him, his hole clenching around his cock until the sensation is nigh unbearable and he spills his lust on the sheets. Their release catches them off-guard despite the need for each other as if they had no saying in what their bodies wanted and when.

For a split second, they were so desperate to finish, to reach completion, to own and to be owned in return. They fall slack in a pool of regret; bittersweet, delectable regret because they’d do it all over again despite the loneliness of the past seven years.

Baptiste lies on top of him, his flat cock slipping outside. “You good?” he whispers, sneaking a pair of fingers to tease his ass and find it oozing his cum. He kisses his neck as he catches his breath. Akande’s chest puffs as he breathes and he notes it against his chest, the sensation almost sending him right to sleep. Like old times.

Akande chuckles softly. “It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this free.”

“Well, wait until you find out about my plan to tie you to the bed,” Baptiste jests.

“As if that would stop me.” Akande rolls to the side, letting Baptiste fall on the bed as he frees himself of his tender embrace.

When pleasures are met, reason awakens, and the blurry affair they succumbed to becomes less unavoidable and more complicated than they anticipated. Baptiste already knew, but now he can feel it, and so does Akande, irked by his touch alone after years believing he was gone.

“We should talk this through,” Baptiste mumbles, lying flat on the bed and concealed by the darkness of the room. Akande’s broad frame blocks the little light that comes through the bathroom.

“We should.” Akande stands, running a hand over his smooth head. “I’ll be right back.”

He leaves the bathroom door ajar. The water runs before his eyes, hands at both sides of the sink. Akande feels the burn and the wetness of sex and relishes in them while his mind rambles. What just happened it’s dangerous for both, and yet he wants to snatch Baptiste for himself. A smile creeps up his lips at the childish thought. Then he cleans up and comes back to check it was not a dream after all.

Baptiste throws an arm over his head, his trousers and boxers still trapped at his ankles but he’s unable to move a muscle. Not even to run away from this mistake. He repeats to himself that there’s still time, that maybe he was a fool for believing he could kill him, but he can still stop him somehow.

At the pulling and tugging at his feet, Baptiste lifts his arm and finds Akande yanking his boots and the rest of his garments off as if he was offended by their presence. Baptiste has no heart to fight him and can’t bring himself to say anything. What is there to say? So he lies there while Akande crawls up his body, dragging his lips over his skin.

“I can’t believe you’re in my bed,” Akande mumbles, following the shape of his abdominal muscles. “I’ve missed you something fierce.” He inhales his scent, burying his nose in the crook of his neck, body hovering on top of him. “How I’ve dreamed of this, of you…”

Once he’s lying by his side, an arm slacking over his waist, Baptiste takes a deep breath and turns his head to look at him. “What was I supposed to do?” he whispers. “You disappeared.”

“It wasn’t my choice.”

“So you’ve said, but I couldn’t just…” Baptiste hesitates, “... wait for you.”

“You did what you had to do,” Akande quips.

“Become Talon’s enemy. Your enemy.” He doesn’t regret the turn his life had taken, but he wished the outcome had been different, that at least they had been together.

“You became yourself, Baptiste,” Akande says, bringing him closer, foreheads brushing together. “We can’t help being who we are, but I…”

“Don’t you dare,” Baptiste sneers. “Not after all this time.”

“I love who you are, I always have.” Akande smiles faintly, arm tightening around his waist in case Baptiste tries to leave his side. He intends to hold onto him for as long as he can. A night or a lifetime.

“I can’t love what you are,” Baptiste retorts, yielding into Akande’s strong arms. “I can’t love Doomfist.”

“And yet you do, pretty boy.” Akande seals his lips with his mouth before more lies come out of it. He runs a wet tongue across his lips, parts his mouth, and deepens the kiss. Baptiste tenses up before he sinks into his arms, turning to the side to embrace him, a leg sneaking between his thighs, arms roaming the expanse of his back.

“Don’t do it,” he whispers, opening his eyes to meet Akande’s. “Don’t take the fist and run away with me instead.” His words are but an inaudible gasp between kisses, but clear as daylight.

Akande’s heart breaks with every single one of them. He doesn’t deserve them. “You know I can’t do that,” he says heavily, holding him even tighter against him.

“You won’t. There’s a difference.” He hates he has even asked when he knew the answer in advance.

“There’s nothing I’d love more,” Akande says, cupping his face so Baptiste can’t avert his gaze. “But I need to finish what I started.”

“I won’t allow it.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

Baptiste sits up beside him on the bed. “If I’ve learned something is that we always do.” His gaze drifts away as if everything in his life up to this point had been nothing but a joke. “Even when we believe we don’t,” he murmurs.

“Baptiste,” Akande pleads, reaching for his arm.

“I had a choice all those years ago and so do you now. I could have left Talon way earlier than I did.” His voice is soaked with the pain from his past, regrets, and remorse for his actions. “I should have…”

“But you didn’t.”

“It’s never too late,” Baptiste meets his eyes and finds the same man that couldn’t give more no matter what he said or asked. “That we’re both here proves that.”

“We have nothing to do with this,” Akande replies, angering a seemingly calm Baptiste.

“How many people are going to die when you rampage the city?”

“None if they don’t stand in my way,” Akande retorts.

“Since when are you back in bed with Talon?” Baptiste arches an eyebrow at him, dumbfounded by his foolishness. He never took Akande for a fool but he’s so blinded by his ambitions he’s going to end up again between four walls and his life gone to waste. “Have you forgotten who put you in jail and who didn’t get you out for seven fucking years?”

“Talon is a weapon.” Akande sits up too, reaching for his face. “My weapon.”

“How long until they betray you?” Akande squints his eyes at those words, knowing he is not in full control of Talon and its assets yet. That’s why he needs the fist after the not-so-friendly visit he paid to Vialli in Venice. He still has to find who betrayed him among the council members. They will all pay. “Or until Overwatch imprisons you again.”

Baptiste’s words bring him out of his reverie, and Akande chuckles, a smirk creeping up his lips. “They’re done for.”

Baptiste sighs, turning his face away from him. Akande’s hand drifts down his neck and chest as if that would soothe the pain. It kind of does. “When this stupid truce is over I won’t hesitate.” He meets his gaze again. Nothing will convince Akande, nothing will make him see reason, and not even his love is enough to reconsider his future. It never was. “I’ll stop you.”

Akande’s smile vanishes, scooting close enough to kiss his temple, lacing an arm around his body and cursing himself for hurting him once more. He would never ask him to change or to be nothing more than what he is. But it’d be so easy if he just joined him. His lips part to say something, when Akande notices a jarring scar on the side of his head, right under where his caring lips were about to mumble his love for him again no matter how conflicting with his actions.

“That’s a mean scar,” he says, kissing the spot again before drowning into Baptiste’s sad eyes. There are scars he cannot see or kiss, some that may not even heal. But this sharp line on a side of his head angers him. It gets lost in the shaved design of his haircut but there’s no way to miss it up close.

“My old squad came to hunt me down,” Baptiste says. “I suppose you had nothing to do with that.”

Akande shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have allowed it, but I was powerless for a while.” He has read the file, the mission report, and it was Captain Cuerva who decided to hunt Baptiste on his own. Everyone involved back then had already died by the hands of his capable lover. “If they were still alive I would kill them all,” he says with a smirk.

Baptiste cracks a wry laugh. “I’m done talking.” He tackles Akande against the mattress, straddling him. “I’m not wasting my breath with you.” He squeezes his body with his thighs, his butt settling on his lower stomach, greedy hands reaching for his sculptural chest. Baptiste worries at his lower lip, letting it scrape free as he enjoys the gorgeous view of a mad man. He won’t change his mind, but he can still fuck him brainless for a while longer. Once a sinner…

“We won’t have another night like this,” Baptiste whispers, glancing down at him with half-lidded eyes.

Akande’s hands grope for his ass, gripping tightly his hips and encouraging Baptiste’s gentle swaying. He smiles. “Oh, we will, pretty boy,” he says, his smile widening into something brazen. “You’re mine for life.”

“After tonight, I’ll stay as far away from you as I can.” 

Bracing himself on the bed, Baptiste leans forward, a hand closing loosely around Akande’s thick neckline. His cock is filling up again, and he notes Akande’s stirring behind him. But his heart still aches by their reunion and the realization that they’ll never find middle-ground despite loving each other fiercely.

“Looks like you’re feeling like being on top tonight,” Akande jests.

“So what,” Baptiste whispers against his mouth, his thumb following his jawline.

“Fine for me.” Akande grabs his butt cheeks and spreads him slightly, lifting his head off the pillows to trap his mouth in a wet kiss.

Baptiste dives into his lips as he would in a pool, all at once, moaning his anger against his tongue and relishing in the way he kneads his ass and how he feels against his body. He could fool himself for years, but nothing burns as deep and intense as Akande’s lust. His cock hardens against his firm stomach, the friction offering the sweetest of tortures. He sneaks a hand behind himself, wrapping it around Akande’s hard length.

A groan comes out of his lips and into his mouth, the kiss savage and uninterrupted until he backs away and leaves him panting for more. With a nonchalant smile on his lips and determined to make the most of their night, Baptiste runs wet lips down his neck and collarbones, his hand working him up and down how Akande likes.

“Baptiste,” he whispers his name as if he missed the taste of his kisses. But his lover ignores him and latches on his nipple. He sucks and bites at the perked tip, his tight fist turning Akande’s hard-on into a massive erection despite his early release.

“I was worried you might be getting old for this,” he teases, gritting his teeth around his nipple, tongue flicking circles around it.

Akande thrashes his head back, thrusting upward with the balls of his feet, hands clammy against his backside. He digs his fingers on his flesh until he’s sure he’s leaving marks there, mouth agape as the overstimulation continues, and the teasing sinks in.

“You’re not getting any younger either,” he chides, slapping his side once and soothing the sting with his palm. “Still gorgeous, though.”

It’s like they never grew apart; like they never spent seven years without seeing each other, talking, or memorizing their bodies. It’s like they picked up where they left, in that exact moment of their lives where their relationship was the only sure thing and everything else a hindrance. After so long, how can this man rock his world with one kiss?

Baptiste licks both his nipples wet, his hand still working his dick. “Tell me you got another…” He doesn’t finish the sentence when Akande fetches another packet of lube from the nightstand. He dangles it in front of him with a grin.

“You sure? Because I’m up for round two,” he says with a half-smile as if he hadn’t had enough of him earlier.

“I can see that.” Baptiste gives one long stroke to his cock before he releases him, crawling up to level their faces. “My turn,” he whispers, bending over and burying his face in the crook of his neck, hoping Akande makes quick work of his shameless offer.

Akande rips the foil with his teeth, moving his hands away from Baptiste only to drizzle some lube on his fingers. He coats them well and reaches behind him. Baptiste distracts him sucking at his neck, his earlobe, breathing hot against his skin. Akande mumbles a curse, sliding lube-slicked fingers across his rim before pushing one inside him guided by his impatience. 

He nuzzles up against the crook of his neck, a hand spreading him open while he works into getting another finger in. He enjoys the intimacy of the moment like he did in the past, taking his time but also wanting to shove himself inside him; until a treacherous thought crosses his mind. “Have you been with other people?” Akande asks despite having no right to do so.

Baptiste chuckles at his teenage fit of jealousy, but Akande tries to coax an answer from him by pushing two fingers deep inside him. His spine curves deliciously right, his cock dripping a clear pool on Akande’s stomach. As if Baptiste could think while Akande stretches him so deftly, that pair of fingers making him forget old grudges and bygones better than rum.

He smiles, licking a patch of skin on his neck. He rocks his hips, encouraging Akande’s fingers to stretch him faster despite the uncomfortable burn. Whoever he fucked in the past is nothing more than a blur, nothing comparable to the intensity of Akande’s lovemaking, the scorching hot sex, and the chemistry that hasn’t maimed an inch despite what transpired between them.

“Have you found love without me?” Akande asks in a thread of voice. He sounds regretful, almost pitiful and it melts Baptiste’s heart.

Baptiste looks at him, a hand on his chest, feeling a fast-beating heart. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

“No,” Akande mumbles, eyebrows knitting together. “But I…”

Faceless lovers, temporary relief that offered a handful of regret and guilt. How can he put into words what he feels? That he never found this kind of honest intimacy of bared hearts and unaccomplished love that they share? “I don’t even remember their names,” Baptiste confesses. “Because they meant nothing to me, but you…” he scoffs, encouraging Akande’s handy work with the rocking of his hips. “You mean way too much.”

Akande wraps both arms around him, leaving Baptiste uncomfortably empty for a moment. He nuzzles up at the side of his neck, whispering into his ear. “You’re mine, Baptiste, never forget that.”

“I said I was done talking,” Baptiste chides, biting Akande on a tender spot. He reaches for the lube and coats his cock well before guiding him against his hole. Standing upright, hard and willing, unabashed of falling again in the arms of his enemy, Baptiste glances at him from above. He pushes down gently until the tip breaches in while a moan empties his lungs.

“Take it easy,” Akande says, caressing the back of his thighs, holding him steady so he takes him inch by inch. Slowly, how he likes it, feeling his tight ass engulf him whole little by little. If he had let him, he would have fingered him for hours before sliding into his pliant hole, but Baptiste was never good at waiting and neither is he.

Baptiste fights Akande’s firm hands, wanting to take his cock as deeply as he can, the burn and the stretch slightly uncomfortable. “I almost forgot how big you are,” he mumbles between gasps. Bedroom eyes peek at Akande’s smile. He’s holding back for him, but Baptiste sinks into his lap, taking another glorious inch. He cannot pretend he hasn’t missed his cock, his girth, how he seems to swell inside him. How he massages his legs, grasps firmly his waist, and kneads his butt, leading him into the sweetest overstimulation. 

Everything to make him forget of the discomfort as his lube-slicked hole stretches around his cock. “I’ve missed you.” The words escape him treacherously, but he doesn’t mind anymore. It is what it is, and they are what they’ve always been.

Watching this gorgeous man so determined to take his cock, so hungry for it despite the turmoil that stirs in his heart, Akande melts. He stops fighting his impatience and runs his hands up his lower back, peeling himself off the mattress to take his mouth. The subtle change in the angle makes Baptiste moan. The intensity of his pleasure dies against his tongue, his hips rolling upward, sinking himself deeper, closer, trying desperately to own this man every way he can before he slips away. Nothing will keep him by his side when the sun rises tomorrow.

Baptiste pushes him down, both hands pressing forcefully against his chest. Akande glances at him with the deepest regret, heart trembling at so many years trapped, imprisoned. If only he could have both, Baptiste and his sought-after war.

“You…” Baptiste follows him as if unable to bear with himself and his feelings any longer. Emotions well in his chest, tears gather in his eyes, and the pleasure of being full of him again swells his cock and curls his stomach. Everything mixes in a concoction that messes with his head and his soul. “I hate you,” Baptiste whispers against his ear.

Akande pounds into him following the rhythm of his heart, both his big hands cupping his butt, his mouth planting wet kisses on his shoulder. “I hate you for leaving me,” Baptiste mumbles, wringing the sheets with both hands.

“I love you,” Akande promises, rolling his hips up and down, using his thighs to support Baptiste, keeping him right where he wants. “Don’t leave my side,” he pleads. “Stay. Stay with me.” Every word is a mindful thrust, a long stroke in and out of his lover. He didn’t know how much he needed him until now, and he realizes he cannot let him go that easily.

Baptiste sighs, his spine curving to receive Akande’s lovemaking in full. His heart aches but he wants more. He encloses Akande’s head within his forearms, kissing his cheek, the corner of his mouth, feeling the warm breeze of his breathing against his skin. “I can’t do that unless you come with me,” he whispers, the hint of a sad smile curling his lips.

Akande repays him in kind with a fond smile and a precisely deep slam of his hips. Baptiste endures it, but a soft moan escapes his smirking lips. “What about now?” Akande teases.

“You got a lot of convincing to do, big guy.”

Akande’s hand wraps around his cock warm and gentle. He strokes in and out of him, his girth leaving his hole pliant and needy for more, his hand squeezing the pleasure out of him until he cannot take anymore. Only to start again. Their kisses turn wet and hazy, their movements lazy as if refusing to let go.

Neither of them cums until they are drenched in sweat, muscles tired by the exertions, minds foggy, and hearts racing. Baptiste rides the night and Akande as if this was truly their last chance at love, their last time together. Weary and breathless, his orgasm crushes him like an unexpected wave. Their cums mingle on Akande’s chest but they indulge some more. Until they are as spent as their cocks, until they cannot move or talk, or fight any longer. 

In a daze of sex and fulfilling love, they take a shower together before returning to the bed and entangling in the tight embrace that neither had for the past seven years. Because they belong to each other, bodies aware of what they’ve done, hearts numb for now, weeping in the morning.

Baptiste has no willpower to leave his bed, not that he could fight Akande’s deadly grip on him. He falls asleep wanting to chuckle, refusing to let the early morning regrets from seeping into his mind just yet. Instead, he nuzzles up against the crook of his neck and basks in his presence.

Almost at dawn, Baptiste awakes. He had fallen asleep in his arms as if it were the safest place in the world, but in truth, it wasn’t. The other side of the bed is still lukewarm with his presence, but Akande is watching him from a nearby chair, eyes half-closed as he fidgets with something in his hand.

His instincts kicking in, Baptiste sits up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Akande twists his wrist, checking the hour on his watch. “Get dressed,” he says, pointing with his chin at the bundle he has made of Baptiste’s clothes.

“Good morning to you too,” Baptiste mutters, making a quick job of covering himself.

“Please,” Akande smiles.

A gingerly pink light seeps through the window, announcing a new day. The day he’s been waiting for since he knew about Akande’s plans. The day he has to leave his feelings aside to do what’s right. If only Akande saw reason.

“Once I’m done the world will be ours,” Akande says, paying kind attention to every inch of skin Baptiste covers. The tight, black shirt slides down his muscled torso, leaving him thirsty.

“And will there be a world by then?” Baptiste snorts wryly. He fastens his belt and reaches for the pair of boots nearby.

“A better world.”

Once dressed, Akande stands, prowling toward Baptiste with a smile on his lips. He always found his sleepy face adorable. “I need you out of the way today,” he says, taking his hands, his thumb smoothing the back. “Can you promise me that?”

Baptiste’s stomach flips, and he carefully lets go of his hands. He hates Doomfist, but he loves the man underneath. The duality in him, alluring and dangerous, something to fear and admire, to love and despise. It hurts so much Baptiste reaches up for Akande’s mouth. For the farewell kiss he won’t skip or neglect. It tastes bittersweet and offers no consolation.

“No,” Baptiste answers, retreating from the lips he’ll miss badly in just a few hours.

“I figured.” Akande sighs, glancing over his shoulder at the bedroom door.

It springs open with a slam and two men wearing Talon’s gear come in hurriedly. Baptiste’s eyes open wide in surprise. If Akande was going to betray him, at least he could do the job himself and not send his dogs to pack him away. He remembers his gun, and his eyes scan the floor, searching for it, but it’s gone and he’s unarmed.

The thugs grab him by the arms in front of Akande. There’s a glimpse of guilt glinting in his eyes while his heart floods with emotions of betrayal. “Akande,” he says hoarsely, trying to get free of the hold they have on him. He releases one arm and hits one of the men with his elbow. The sturdy helmet makes him see stars and a grimace of pain conquers his countenance. The agent secures a firm grip on him once more, twisting his arm painfully until Akande’s growl of displeasing makes him rethink his actions.

“Akande, what are you doing?” Baptiste asks, but his lover ignores him. His heart is jackhammering against his chest, and his vision is turning blurry. Time goes by too fast and he cannot make up the muffled voices coming from the hall nor the ones behind his back. “DOOMFIST!” he sneers. His shout is still ringing in his ears, but Akande refuses to look at him, grunting instructions here and there.

“I thought you loved me!” Baptiste screams, anger making his voice tremble. He swallows back a sob and squeezes un-shed tears back where they belong. He struggles in the thugs hold even though there is no escaping this.

Akande finally turns about to face him, a smug smile stretching on his lips. One quick glare at his men and they obediently turn their heads away. They keep Baptiste held upright even though he isn’t trying to escape anymore. He stares into Akande’s deep gaze, waiting for an answer he isn’t sure will come.

Leaning down, Akande kisses his temple and then the corner of his mouth. He inhales Baptiste’s scent before taking his chin into his fingers, thumb tracing the line of his jaw. “Go be the damn hero you want to be,” he says, noting how Baptiste’s eyebrows knit slightly at his words. Akande covers his head with a black hood before he manages to retort an answer. “Although you picked the wrong side.” Against his better judgment, Akande uncovers his mouth and traps Baptiste into an inescapable kiss, tongue forcing open his lips and sneaking inside, brushing past Baptiste’s.

It leaves Baptiste breathless, panting from rage or for more, he can’t tell. He feels Akande shoving something in the front pocket of his fatigues, but under the effects of a long, wet kiss in front of many Talon’s eyes, the gesture slips to the back of his mind as unimportant. It ends sooner than he expected, and somehow he wants to wake up from a nightmare, still in a bed, trapped in his arms.

“You have your orders. If you betray me, you’re all dead,” Akande commands, and his voice vanishes every trace of hope from him. As they make him walk out of the apartment blindfolded and humiliated, the taste of his kisses still lingers in his mouth. Had he been warned about this, Baptiste would’ve done the same all over, and it pisses him off. 

The world turns confusing and hateful once more. His skin prickles with a bad feeling, his stomach gutted at how he trusted him for nothing. They toss him somewhere cold, and soon Baptiste recognizes the motion of an aircraft. As they take off, he tumbles over, bumping against some cargo. He stays there, arms secured at his back, his head against the cold metal of the cargo bay of some Talon ship. He laughs wryly at how he could be so naive; fucked over in so many ways by the same villain.

After years on the run, he’s trapped like a rat because of Akande. One damn night, one mistake, and everything’s over. His freedom, his plans, the cat and mouse game he’s been playing all along. Talon will make him disappear and Akande won’t bat an eye. Because he trusted there was something between them still; because he’s in love and stupid.

Baptiste loses track of time, denied of his sight, and restrained with no other company than his mistakes. A bump awakes him from his daze and he wonders if they have arrived at Talon’s headquarters or worse. His arms are numb, his shoulders aching badly, blood can’t reach his hands and he’s dizzy and disoriented, but he tries to sit up against the cargo boxes when loud steps close in toward him.

Someone grabs his shirt by the neck and pulls him up to his feet. Baptiste stumbles, mumbling a curse to whoever is treating him this _nicely_. As he trips over, the sun caresses his face through the fabric of the hood. If he were not confused and broken-hearted he’d say this place smells and feels like home. A wry smile stretches on his lips at the stupid thought.

“You’re losing your mind, Baptiste,” he mumbles to himself.

The same man bossing him out of the aircraft releases his hands and tugs at the blindfold. The sun blinds him momentarily, and Baptiste tries uselessly to lift his arm to protect his eyes. His arms fall numb against his sides, pins, and needles starting to creep his way up and down. He tries to reach for his wrists to massage them, but it’s useless.

“Go.” The guy tosses something at him. His phone bumps against his foot.

As Baptiste turns around, a waft gives him a once over as the helicopter takes off. Despite the blinding sunlight, he recognizes Talon’s ship as the ones they used for their undercover missions. A small but manageable bird that could drop or pick up a team on top of a roof, near the coast, and almost anywhere without a trace.

What Baptiste also recognizes is his surroundings. He spins on his heels, dumbfounded by what he sees. No wonder he found the place familiar at first. Home will always be home, and this is the back alley of the clinic. This is Port-de-Paix.

Baptiste picks up his phone, blood returning to his limbs, although he’ll spend a couple of days with sore shoulders and an even sorer heart. A text from an unknown number pops on the screen. Not that he cannot figure out who he is. He squints his eyes, still getting used to the bright light of the day after hours blindfolded.

_We’ll see each other again, but be ready because we have a war to fight._

Messages from his wired-for-war ex-boyfriend, of course.

_Let’s take it night by night, pretty boy._

Baptiste snorts out loud, not bothering to answer him. Not yet. He’ll make him pay next time they see each other. He’ll thwart his plans, invade his bed, and prevent him from destroying the world’s peace even if he has to tie him up to achieve it. If Akande wants to play, he’ll lose. In love and war…

As he tries to slide his phone in his pocket, he finds resistance. He gets rid of his phone in the back pocket of his fatigues and takes out a small bulge from the front one. His eyebrows knit together as he weights the little thing. This must be what Akande slid into his pocket, but why? The tail of a fish, the head of a lion. The details are smoothed, the color fading on the edges as though time and use had weathered it; as though someone had rubbed it in his hand for too long. Could he…?

“Jean-Baptiste!”

His name in that familiar voice wakes him up from his reverie.

“You’re back! You said it wouldn’t be safe and I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” Roseline says, trotting her way toward him with a fond smile on her lips. But as soon as she gets closer, the smile fades away and a hint of concern gleams in her eyes. She takes a good look at him. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, casting a charming smile on her way.

“What happened to you?”

“It’s a long story.” Toying with the figure in his hand, he sighs.

“After the afternoon shift then?” She arches an eyebrow at him, giving him time but not a chance to escape a conversation with her. What he can or cannot tell won’t mind. Baptiste looks like he needs a friend tonight.

“Fair enough,” he answers. After what just happened, he suspects Talon won’t be coming for him any time soon, so at least he has today to enjoy being home, with friends, and plan how to get out of this mess. Akande may not be as heartless as he thought. Still an asshole, though.

“What’s that?” she asks, pointing at Baptiste’s hand. “Oh! A merlion.” It doesn’t ring any bells, and Baptiste shrugs. “Have you been to Singapour recently, Jean-Baptiste?”

His smile widens, and he stares again at the tiny, weathered lion. Everything falls into place as he realizes what it is and what it means. “You did bring me a souvenir, huh?” he mumbles to himself. He holds the belated gift into his palm and then secures it back into his pocket, directing a stupid smile to Roseline.

“Coffee?” she asks. “You seem more tired than usual.”

“Yes. I just gotta make a call first.”

“I’ll see you inside.” Roseline smiles at him again before returning inside the building. Knowing Baptiste, he will follow suit soon and she’ll have invaluable help this afternoon.

Baptiste stares at the screen of his phone, pondering what to do. Maybe it’s time to contact an old friend, see what she’s up to. He looks for the number and calls, hoping it’s still on. If Overwatch is back, he wants in, and he knows exactly who to call.

“Dr. Ziegler?” he says in his usual cheerful tone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ ˂ᵒ͜͡ᵏᵎ⁾✩  
> I hope you enjoyed the story despite the long hiatus. Thank you for your comments, kudos, and your patience! <3
> 
> See y'all on the next one! ~ヾ(＾∇＾)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! ╭( ･ㅂ･)و ̑̑ ˂ᵒ͜͡ᵏᵎ⁾✩


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